Sat in the cafe at our local ASDA Living store on Friday, I anxiously waited for the alarm on my phone to tell me that it is time to leave this granny filled, arena and collect smaller beautiful from her two-hour visit at Nursery.
Usually these visits don’t bother me too much, I’m old hat at this. I love the nursery, my eldest has been there since she was 14 months old and is going into her last year before primary school. Smaller beautiful even has Big beautifuls old key worker and I know they can offer her more stimuli than I could at home.
Today is different though. My little nocturnal angel, of all that is sweetness and light, slept.
You heard me she slept. So she woke twice before midnight, but went back to sleep…ALL NIGHT!
Around midnight that night I had launched the baby monitor at The Hoarder and I went to bed in the hope of catching some ZZZ, before my angel woke again for her 2-3 hours of playtime in my bed.
I launched it as I was in a grump with him, this is no new occurrence to The Hoarder or those who follow me on Twitter.
Anyhow, I awoke to the sound of my happy little cherub playing in her cot at 8am! I listened for half an hour waiting for the cries that usually summon me to her. They never came. She just played and as I listened I loved her more than ever.
She laughed and danced her way through breakfast, played peekaboo, chased me, I chased her. We played together and laughed together until we left for nursery.
As I headed to the cafe and drank the coffee that looked like tea I felt a huge tug on my heart.
(This is made worse by the crap non-coffee and the hundreds of new mummies pushing their shiny new pram around the store below me).
As I sit here it occurs to me that I seem to have lost a year, I have lost all the baby days. I can’t remember anything.
How small she was, her smell, her cry, those early morning breastfeeds.
Maybe it is because I know she is my last baby (she is!) that it hurts so much that I can’t remember.
I am angry as well as hurt though. I have spent the last year desperately wishing her to sleep, to stop screaming (which she eventually did at 8 months).
“Please sleep my darling, please” I begged…no Sobbed for hours, days, months.
All those baby moments lost in a sea of exhaustion…and I’m angry.
I feel like I have lost something and I have no one to blame but … who? not her, she has no idea what is going on except she wants her safety feeling back…Mummy. So I blame myself, as all good mothers do.
Tomorrow she will be 1-year-old. On Sunday we are having a party for her and holding her Naming day.
During the ceremony I, along with The Hoarder, my 2 brothers and his 2 sisters will be making a promise to her.
I will be promising to try to stop comparing smaller beautiful to her big sister (who slept) and instead I promise to value who she is and enjoy who she is without judgement or trying to change her.
I wish I had valued her from the start instead of focusing on her nocturnal waking.
I love you Amelie Rose, Happy birthday
P.S I do not love Asda’s coffee, but I’m told asking for a double shot is the way forward (Those fab Grannies know how to work the system).