This week marks another key point in my parenting journey. My maternity leave is coming to an end. I’m really not sure how i feel about it. Mixed emotions i think.
I adore my job. I’ve said this many times,and I’ll keep saying it. I love my job, the charity I work for, the work we do. It’s also what makes a huge difference to my mental health. But on the flip side,this means my daughter is growing older. She’s going to be going to a child minder. She’s now closer to a year than to birth. She’s been growing in the big wide world for almost as long as she was growing inside me.
I have loved my 9 months of being mummy and mum. I’ve loved watching my children grow. Watching my teenager flourish in his first year at college. Watching my toddler gain more independence. Watching my baby grow and learn.
Knowing i will not do this parenting journey again has made me even more aware of every milestone. Each new thing. Each change in appearance. Each ounce of weight gained. Every smile, every tear. I hate the thought of missing anything,but also know i need to step out of this safe bubble.
But this realisation has also been a bit overwhelming. It hit me hard, especially as it coincides with returning from a fabulous holiday this week, and a big change in weather. I’m trying to make sure I stop and refocus,but in reality at times that’s hard. So for now I’m focusing on things I can manage and control. Deep breaths and move a step forward.
One of the things I am really struggling with at the moment is every time someone tells me that my little girl is growing up. I know that she will be my last baby, and so in someways I want to make all of this time last as long as possible.
In 2 days time she will be 7 months old. That is more than half of her first year gone, and I feel at times like I have missed so much of the first few months. I am constantly trying to capture in my mind and my heart each moment, as I know I can never have them again. While I am celebrating her moving on in her development, part of me keeps feeling ‘Not yet’! Part of me isn’t ready yet for her to start being mobile, becoming more independent, needing me less.
And I know that some of this is a long long way off.
My toddler still needs me daily. My teenager needs me – but not as much as it feels like I need him. And my daughter needs me. I know she does. But I also know that she doesn’t always miss me like I miss her. I know that none of my children do.
My husband and I joke about my behaviour when I am apart from my teenage son for any period of time. I feel like I have lost an arm or a leg. I find it really hard. I struggle with letting go, as I can still remember holding him in my arms nearly 18 years ago, and realising that this small person was suddenly totally dependent on me.
I struggle with how willingly my toddler runs off to his childminder – and only because she is so amazing at what she does, and he absolutely adores going. But I struggle because it is a time in his week when I am not needed.
At the moment I am struggling with the idea of returning to work. I love my job. I have really enjoyed my Keeping In Touch days. I adored the day I had back in the office a couple of weeks ago. I love my colleagues. I love what we do. But I am struggling with the idea of not being there for my daughter all day every day. It’s irrational, I know. I know she will be having an amazing time with our wonderful friend and childminder. I know I can touch base whenever I need to. But I am struggling.
What I have realised is that I am human, I am normal. I am not superwoman. I am allowed to feel like this. Loving my children is the hardest but the easiest thing to do, and each stage require me to let go a little bit more.
Today I have loved seeing posts on social media from family and friends as the big September return to school starts. 4 years ago today I shared the post of my eldest as he started secondary school. But I’ve also found the start of this week emotional. Today I labelled up his school uniform for the last time. We went out and bought the stationery to cover a mass of subjects for the last time.
Tomorrow my son starts his last year of secondary school. He’s starting this year taller than me! He’s starting as a Senior Prefect. He’s only got just over 2 terms of school left. Next month we are going to look round his potential sixth form college. We’re talking about choices that will have an even bigger impact on his future.
I know he’s growing up, and enabling him to become the independent young man he has become I see as one of my greatest roles in life. He’s an amazing son, friend, big brother, leader, discipler. But he’s also in many ways still my baby. He’s the baby I held in my arms seconds after he was born. He’s the boy I’ve picked the pieces up of after accidents, the boy I’ve cuddled on the tough days and celebrated with on the good days.
I’m sending him out to school tomorrow confident that however hard the next few months are, he will certainly give it his all, and do it with us and God on his side. So yes I’m going through some “lasts” but we are also going towards the next season of “firsts” and I am excited for him and what his future holds.