ONE

One whole year. The days might seem long sometimes, but it’s hard to believe nearly a whole year has now gone by. A whole year with our two boys, a whole year since Wilf joined our family.

It only feels like yesterday that I was packing our hospital bag at the last minute. Theo was getting ready for his stay at his Nana and Abu’s, Andy was calling them to say that it was all happening and I was dropping to the floor every few minutes as the contractions came. I remember thinking at the time – this hurts. A lot. How can I do this for much longer? Turns out that I didn’t have to as Wilf was soon to make a very quick appearance. I keep saying of late that his personality is just like the way he came into the world; he is so calm, so chilled and then… all of sudden he makes himself known. He’s a whirlwind who will forever keep us on our toes, it seems.

A few weeks ago I happened to drive past the Sainsbury’s on Hill Lane – it was the first time I’d been that side of town since having Wilf. My heart raced as I caught sight of the car park, thinking back to that day, in the earliest of days or lockdown, where we had caused quite the scene. I think I will forever be processing the sheer euphoria at how we delivered our own baby, versus the what could have been if we hadn’t have been so lucky. In true Wilf style, he asserted himself as a strong little character straight away – and he hasn’t stopped since.

It’s a few days until Wilf turns one and I’m doing what I usually do: I’m reliving the before, the labour, then snippets of so far. I remember being an emotional wreck on Theo’s first birthday, then again on his second (mainly because the chilli I had made in the slow cooker had overflowed and leaked all down the kitchen units), and once again on his third birthday because this was his last one as just the three of us. Perhaps it’s because of the desire for things to be perfect, the pressure of the day, a bit like Christmas, or perhaps it’s the realisation that time really is flying by.

When I look back at photos of Theo’s birthdays, I see how he has blossomed from a baby to a toddler and now a little boy. And now, with Wilf, it’s hard to believe our teeny, tiny little newborn was once so still given that he is now everywhere and into everything. For the past year, lockdown aside, we’ve got through the colic, the reflux, the many and continued broken nights, the head in our hands at his fearlessness when it comes to climbing on things or trying to dive off them. He digs in the mud, he likes to eat stones, he has destroyed our TV remotes by using them as teethers. He is the cheekiest little chap who absolutely adores his big brother, and without a doubt, watching the bond grow between our two boys this past year has brought us the ultimate joy. It’s been one year of challenges – of things being different, of things being unbelievably difficult at times – but it’s certainly now one year to celebrate.

I know my mum refers to the day as “window pain” when they first met Wilf. They stood on the driveway, us in our living room, a panel of glass between us. We put on brave faces and we toasted to Wilf, bubbles in hand, knowing that a window-meet was be the best we could do for now. It’s easy to dwell on what has been lost and what has been missed, but one year on, it’s now about celebrating. Celebrating bringing another little human into the world and the delight that he has become.

When Wilf was born, we Facetimed Theo from the hospital. His excitement at now having a baby brother was unreal – he quite literally jumped for joy, squealing and smiling from ear to ear. My mum reminded me of how he commented at the time “I’ll share him with you,” which I’ve since watched back on video, noticing how little Theo looks here, one whole year ago. And now, exactly as Theo said, we absolutely will be sharing the joy that is Wilf. This weekend he gets to see his Nanny and Bampi for the second time – for real, not on a screen – and we will be raisingĀ  glass with my family without a window between us. It’s been a year of hearing the word ‘bubbles’ so many times but not the ones we know and love. Nevermind support or social or childcare bubbles now. This weekend is all about the celebratory bubbles – the fizzy, sparkly ones to mark a whole year gone by. So, here’s to Wilf: our little lockdown baby, our wild little one.

The things I wish I’d known

I’ve been a mum for four years now. That’s four years of stumbling and learning along the way.  Four years of making things up as I go along, being uncertain or going with my instinct. I’m only four years in but already there are so many things I wish I’d have known.

I wish I’d known the truth about labour and the post-partum delights. The sheer exhaustion and appreciation of what the body can do. The absolute miracle that is growing a human and bringing them into the world. I wish I’d have known about the months that followed too – not just the leaks and the jelly-like bits and the parts that now drooped. But the parts that slowly become stronger again, and the parts that will never quite be what they once were. The night sweats, the new frizzy baby hairs that appear… no one really tells you about those things. Motherhood is oh so glamorous.

I wish I’d known about the fourth trimester and how it really is a thing. Permanently wearing a sling, sleeping so little, feeding constantly, not knowing what time of day or night it is. Babies just want to be held and feel safe when there seems to be this pressure from the minute they are born that we should be able to put them down. They have just come into this big, wide world. No wonder they don’t want to leave our arms.

I wish I’d known to lap up the quiet cuddles even more. It’s hard to believe that my boys were once still. That they slept on my chest. I wonder how often I really did just snuggle them without feeling the need to get them to sleep on their own because that’s what the books said. I miss their teeny little bodies and how they would tuck their legs up as they slept on me. I miss that I would be glued to the sofa feeding for hours on end. Now, my boys fidget and wriggle, barely sitting still for a squeeze. But when they do, they give the best cuddles back.

I wish I’d known about the mountain of baby things you need. You use them for a few months and then soon enough, you need new and different things because they grow so quickly. Every room in the house contains something that is usually bulky, colourful or makes a loud sound and lights up. There’s always something to get, always the next size up to buy. I wish I’d have known how cluttered the house would feel, but then how strange it would be when things were packed away – another milestone reached, another staged passed by.

I wish I’d known about the importance of getting out of the house. Minus those early days with a screaming newborn, car journeys now bring some much needed quiet time – they are a way to contain two children who will happily play with toys in the back seat and sometimes even drift off to sleep. And there’s nothing quite like a walk too. Be it for quick leg stretch or a good old stomp, the fresh air always does us the world of good. It may often take us longer to leave the house than the time we are actually out for, but it’s worth it. Both boys have happily slept in their pushchairs from day one and I must have walked thousands as miles whilst they’ve snoozed. Podcast on, out in the open. It does wonders for the soul and combats the loneliness that can sometimes be felt at home.

I wish I’d known how much things would change. The fact that there is barely any time for yourself any more. That these little people are the centre of your universe and everything revolves around them. That you would sacrifice and do anything – literally anything – to keep them safe and happy. And all of that is completely ok. I wish I could tell my pre-child self to appreciate some of the things I now long for – quiet time, a long shower, having a snack I don’t have to share. I’d tell my old self to make sure I was really grateful for these things.

I wish I’d known about time – how much it flies and how much it can drag. Sometimes the days feel like they are never going to end, that they are so samey that they blur into one. Lockdown certainly hasn’t helped with that. Sometimes though, I feel like I’ve blinked and we’ve managed to fastforward without me realising it. I have a four year old, no longer a toddler but now a little boy who knows his own mind, who is inquisitive, who I have the best conversations with. And I have a baby who also has such personality, who is constantly on the move, who protests when he doesn’t get what he wants. My squishy newborns have grown into real little people.

Just before having Wilf, I read a book called Letters on Motherhood and at the time, I wrote letters to our boys which one day I will give to them. Little did I know that Wilf would appear days later, and Theo would instantly seem so much more grown up. It has got me thinking recently that there is so much, pre having children, that I wish I’d have known. Perhaps it’s because Wilf’s first birthday is only a couple of months away, or perhaps because we are in yet another lockdown, but it’s definitely made me think. Maybe these things I wish I’d have known would be in a letter to myself – my pre-child self – reminding me to lap up every single moment. To ride out the challenges and to hold on to all those wonderful bits even more so.