Moments that matter

                                   The moments that matter

   

When Pickle was very young, about a month old, I was doing the usual first time mum panicking at everything she did and everything she did not do, thinking I was a bad mum for doing or not doing everything and anything, thinking she would die at any moment because she was sleeping or not sleeping, not kicking or kicking too much...I actually remember gasping out the words "do you think she'll die?" when my husband suggested I was slightly overenthusiastic with the amount of nappy cream I applied one day. 

I would panic if she woke up too early or too late. I would panic if we were slightly late for a baby music class or if we missed one, or if she drank too much or too little milk, it was ridiculous but also, as I know now, extremely normal. I would be meticulous about the timings of everything for the first part of her life, the clock was my master and controlled my every waking moment. I would think about 6 hours ahead from the moment I woke up in the morning, planning every move of my and her life, from when she fed to when she slept to when we did tummy time to when she had a jingly thing rattled in her face to when we watched Sing and Sign to when she pooed and peed. I downloaded schedules from the internet of suggested day to day itineraries for babies. I really don't think I'm the only one to do this, but it obsessed me. Remember though, this was only for the first few months. I, along with probably many other mothers, realised how exhausting and completely unsustainable it was after a while. You could say I eventually chilled the fuck out. 

There was a moment one night when I was breast feeding her, that things sort of helped my road to chilling the fuck out, and it was something that she did. It was dark, I was upstairs in our bedroom feeding her, and I was looking at her face which I always did when she fed if I could. It was just the look she gave me. This look of what I can only describe as unadulterated love. In that moment, I felt comforted, loved, peaceful and soothed. If she could have spoken, I believe she would have said "You are doing all the right things. It's okay. I'm here and I will always love you. It is really, really okay, just enjoy this time with me." It was as if I had come face to face with a tiny, hungry, dribbly angel.

I can't really explain how or why that helped me, but it did. In that moment I realised that the time I spend with my daughter is about moments, not about itineraries or timings or schedules or baby classes or bloody tummy time. I am not trying to tell you that from that day on I cast aside all my worries and became a completely different person who flung all her clocks out the window and went gliding away through fields wearing white diaphanous materials holding my child in my arms up to the sun and from then nothing mattered except me and my glorious baby, or anything like that. I am saying that I started to appreciate each moment more deeply. I am saying that sometimes, it's okay not to make it to baby class. It's okay on some days to skip the tummy time, which both Pickle and I hated. Nowadays, that translates to me understanding that going to the park wouldn't be the best thing for her and instead, we could both do with a long cuddle, where she sits on my lap and I rest my chin on her soft golden hair, with lots of books, cookies, TV, digging in the garden and making dens. Swimming class can wait, because we need to bond. We need to connect. We will never get this day again with each other. It is too precious to waste.

                                                                     

After reading one of my blogs, my friend from Canada with a 6 year old and a 2 year old texted me with some words of support. She said that at the moment, her six year old son sleeps in her bed with her, and of course she doesn't sleep properly a lot of the time. But there will come a day when he won't need to sleep with her and prefers his own bed, and for this reason, although it's a bit inconvenient and maybe sometimes uncomfortable, she cherishes every moment that her son still wants to sleep in that bed, because soon, she will never have that chance again. And at that point, she will know that she hasn't taken any of those moments for granted. 

When I was still pregnant with Pickle and I was asking my mum for advice, she just said to me "When she is born, just gaze at her. Never stop gazing at her face" I still do this two years later, and I am sure I will never stop wanting to. I do it so often that she sometimes grins, covers her face and says "No! Mummy! NO!" But I just can't help myself. She is so beautiful and so perfect, and I know there will come a time when I can't do it as much. So I'm going to get my gazing in now. It is, really, only these moments that matter. 

Thanks for reading x