No like bed, I want more

27 February 2021 | Lochie 2.5 years | Jono 1 year

Got my period today. That’s despite breastfeeding 6 times a day and taking the mini pill. Jono is starting childcare in 10 days and turning 1 the day after. I’m returning to work officially after a 3 year hiatus. We are way past the 6 month charm and I’m sad yet ready to resume the next phase of life. Next year I’ll even be 40.

When I was 16 time ticked over so slowly. I thought I would never be out of my endless teens. But the decades inevitably came and went. Then I was sure I was magical and this was a fantasy and I was special. I had to do something special, it was destiny. And I was right. Less about being destined for greatness and more about being special. All life is special.

Now I see my body is ready to move on with its womanly cycles, designed for one purpose only, but a purpose that I have now fulfilled. My body doesn’t know how naive it is to keep up the practice and pretence. It has a purpose, and I have a purpose and the two are no longer aligned, they have parted ways. My 3 year baby rearing holiday is over. Magic came and went. Sparkled and shone like a falling star and disappeared into memory. Some people leave a trail, a mark on the world. Others come and go leaving barely a memory of themselves in the hearts of those who knew them. So is that what is meant by “ordinary”? This baby period was special. The most special in my life. And yet having kids is, by virtue of the world reproducing as it has been, an ordinary thing.

Now I’ve lived this ordinary period. It’s magic is now sparsely captured in my memory, photos, posts. It lives on in the evolution of my boys as they grow. But the new motherhood period is done.

When I was 7 I would cry at the end of every party. I don’t like endings. Accepting endings and finding closure is a virtue and a skill. The party that never ends remains my favourite fantasy. Living with my husband for the first time was like a date that never ends. Now theres a sleepover in my house every night with my favourite boys. I wake up to their cooing and voices and tiny toothy smiles. After I get the kids off to sleep (which can take hours) I like to think of it this way.

Then there’s the way my kids’ eyes light up when they see me – coming down the stairs or appearing at childcare. I’m their universe, their favourite celebrity. What career could I have possibly made that would surround me with the same appreciation? How can there be a choice made between having and not having, for those fortunate to be given such a choice? And if I got pregnant again would it be so bad?

As I’m writing this, Jono is falling asleep on my boob, and I can hear Lochie being carried to bed by daddy. Lochie is tired and needs his sleep, but he is protesting all the way up the stairs.

“Nooo, no like bed, I want more Peter Rabbit!”