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I’m not saying this with a hint of arrogance, but I felt prepared for having little kids. During high school and university, there were always young kids around me. Friends of mine had young siblings. I babysat on the weekends. Worked in a nursery. And studied early childhood education. I knew how to change nappies, put kids to sleep, teach basic math and reading, and plan fun activities and crafts. Young children weren’t a mystery to me.
So when I brought home our first child, and then second, and then third, I felt confident that even though it was going to be exhausting, I could do it. I could have little kids.
But I’m now finished having babies. (To be honest, I’d be tempted to have more if it wasn’t for the three traumatic labours and money it costs to raise kids.) There will be no more nappies, no more weaning, no more rocking to sleep, no more, breastfeeding, no more.
My youngest goes to full-time school in September. It’s the driving factor that has made me consider how I am coming to the end of a season, an era of young motherhood. All three of my kids will be in school for six and a half hours a day. I’ve never, ever experienced this since birthing my babies.
I’ll be left to my own devices. To decide what to do with this newfound freedom. And in one sense, there is release in that. A breath of fresh air. I can spend time pursuing this little career of freelance journalism, invest in a befriending project I run for survivors of modern slavery, and maybe even seriously pour into my dream of writing a novel. Oh and maybe a morning swim in the river.
But there is also grief about this transition. Grief I didn’t expect. I wasn’t prepared for it, for having not-so-little children.
Didn’t think how I would deal with not being needed in the same way. They can even make cheese on toast. I feel like next, it could be lasagne. They can put on their own shoes, stuff clean clothes into drawers, get water from the sink, and even unlock the door (which is scary).
Didn’t think about how I would respond to an eight-year-old who no longer wants to hold my hand. Who pulls his away from mine when I go to grasp it.
Didn’t think about how I would answer big questions about religion and science and morality. Where did the world begin? What happens when you die? Why can’t I swear? You get the point. Lots of questions, often followed by ‘how do you know that?’ – a question I find even harder to answer, but try through my drib drab responses.
Didn’t think about the frightening feat of letting go of control and leaving kids to go places without my constant supervision. Summer camps, park dates, trampoline parks, and bus journeys – where I’m not there to protect them.
Didn’t think about how to give them freedom, but still set boundaries. You can go on Kids YouTube, but not the proper one. You can walk down the street without me, but not home from school. You can play Minecraft, but not Fortnight.
But I also wasn’t prepared to structure my days around anything other than meals and naps and screen time and playdough.
As mothers - and as parents I suppose, but I think it is primarily mothers – we sometimes lose ourselves in the early years of motherhood. We put dreams on hold, hobbies at bay, work to the side. Whether you think that’s right or wrong, just or not, it seems to typically be reality. In some ways, it’s beautiful. I think, at least. We are creating bonds with our children in those first years, especially the first three, that we will never forget, even if they do. I don’t regret it.
But once we start to emerge from the haze that is sleepless nights and total dependency, I think we – I think I – need to evaluate and prepare for what’s next.
It may not be a career. It may not be a career. It may not be a career.
As much as I love the feminist movement that encourages women to work and to get ahead, we can’t ignore that it isn’t what brings all women fulfilment and joy.
So what does? The world is your oyster, I suppose. Instead of rushing to the next thing, this transition is a time for reflection, for noticing, for exploring. For figuring out our place in a huge world, within a little family, on a small dot of the planet.
And if we go back to the grief of them growing up. There is indeed a sadness that comes with saying goodbye to some of the most precious years of their youngest lives. But it’s only because those years were filled with so much good. Instead of yearning for them back, I want to appreciate them for what they were. Flick through photos and videos to remind myself how unique the times were.
And then, live in the present, with their current ages and stages. Chapter books. Late nights chats on the bed. A genuine sense of humour. Music taste. Deep conversation. Movies like Matilda, Flubber, Yes Day. Chess and Checkers.
As I wrote this, I stopped halfway through to give the kids their dinner. And would you believe it – my oldest came to hold my hand. That thing I said he never does.
Because although he is growing. Although he may not want to hold my hand in public. He is still my baby. He is still, my baby.
For women there are many 'Seasons' not quite the same for men. Men tend to keep the same name, same interests, and often similar work for many years. Us women change our surname, our roles, our jobs regularly through our lives. We have to adapt and survive through the many changes.
This "new normal" for you might be interesting, frustrating, upsetting, and wonderful, varying day to day. You have lots of other firsts ahead of you, enjoy them, laugh at yourself at times and share your experiences so they can help others.
I remember the flap I was in when our daughter brought home a boyfriend for the first time - I tried to be the relaxed, cool, nonchalant mum but made a complete idiot of myself. I kept making excuses as why I needed to be in the same room as they were in "are my scissors in here" "where's my book?"
"excuse me anyone fancy a drink?" I was the least cool I could ever be!
But you do go through a time when all your child's friends think you are great, it's just your own kid finds you a complete embarrassment.
Embrace the "seasons" and enjoy the memories!
Wow! This is a powerful piece, and heartfelt. Thank you, Lauren, for sharing.
I am now a grandmother, but I remember those times with my own son and daughter, so clearly. They are now both parents and I can enjoy the process of raising babies and small children again, re-learning in a different age, for each individual child. My three grandchildren are aged 10, 7 and 9 months and all so very different. I am quite hands on, especially with the baby at the moment and the 10 year old grand daughter who shares my passions for dance and reading / writing. The seven year old grandson is an absolute joy to spend time with and full of questions we can't answer! But I delight in this new phase of parenting; GRAND parenting, which is role I was not prepared for, but feel blessed to be involved with. Life, for me, is about motherhood and family and this is reflected in my books. My themes are all about when it goes right and when it doesn't work out as expected. But LOVE is at the heart of it all. And Maternal love is the most powerful force on earth. It never fades and nourishes our souls. Thank you again for sharing your thoughts with us! And enjoy every phase of your children's growing up. x x