I have been wanting to write this for the last 9 weeks. Because I wanted to share, but also so that once the newborn love bubble has popped I could remember this feeling forever. I’m looking at this beautiful little raven haired parcel, our little pixie whose new born hair sits just over the top of her little tiny ears, and still can’t believe how lucky we are. After having two bubbly, full of fun little boys we hit the jackpot and have our little girl. It’s funny, I didn’t really know how much I wanted a girl until we actually had her in our arms. Her name is Elsie, and she is just perfect.
The moment the doctor had delivered her and told us it was our girl, I was overcome with shock. I still can’t believe it-I had to ask if they were sure she was mine. Why would we deserve such a perfect little baby? They placed on her my chest and I just cried the ugly, snorting, raw type of cry that only a mum could understand. I couldn’t take my eyes off her then- and haven’t done since. She is the first girl that her brothers will love.
Nine weeks on and baby number 3 has certainly turned our lives upside down but in the best kind of way. There are the things that I catch myself saying, doing and thinking that would’ve shocked the first time mum version of me. There are now things that must just wait and then there are the things that you want to just slow down. With two children you can still try to have control over your house, your life and your sleep. By number three there is no disguising the fact that shit just got hard, but also that you are happy to just let things slide.
I used to be able to beat my washing….now my washing has well and truly beaten me with a big dirty stick. So much so that most days I only get around to chucking clothes on the spare bed and rarely get around to putting them away. We just accept that clothing is now permanently located on the ‘bedrobe’. I just noticed yesterday that some items are appearing for the 4th time on the bed without ever having set foot in the wardrobe. It’s like a one stop shop that has something for everyone. A place where jocks and socks can mingle freely, and where tshirts and jeans can live harmoniously in one big cult like community without being judged for being on the wrong shelf
I never ever would have let my kids leave the house in mismatched clothing. The thought of stripy tshirts and stripy shorts in the same outfit horrifies me and here we are in 2016 like some Playschool presenter rocking every colour of the rainbow in one outfit. My middle child Sammy has decided now that he will dress himself. He likes to choose outfits while I am stuck on the couch feeding Elsie- knowing full well I can’t do a thing about it. He has now worn the same soccer top for the fourth day in a row….only on the fourth day it was covered in spaghetti. I let him wear it to avoid the argument and to be honest I physically couldn’t chase him around the house and dress him with a baby hanging on to my nipple like it was an all you can eat buffet. I have surrended! Let him wear what he wants! Yesterday this included my socks, because he didn’t like his.
Online shopping delivery guy has become my new bestie. I hear his rusty truck pull up and his squeaky little trolley pushing up the driveway and am overcome with excitement. I see him and think ‘ I really hope he has the toilet paper- we have no tissues left, the wipes are almost out and to be honest the paper towel is just too scratchy’. This little angel who for some reason can only give a delivery timeframe to the nearest 3 hours appears at my door and peacefully delivers my groceries. Groceries that with 3 children would’ve taken me 3 hours, 2 mid shop trolley abandonments, 14 threats of smacks and no treats, 4 arm squeezes and secret underarm grabs, 4 tantrums and the promise of 2 kinder surprises to get myself.
The school run has become an outrageous cruel and sick joke. I will leave it at that…mums will understand. No need to elaborate.
I drink beer now….sometimes at 4pm. Some days I ask myself ‘Is 3pm too early?’.
Suddenly knowing this will be my last baby, the hard things are no longer hard for the same reasons. Rather than finding it hard to wake up at 2am I’m finding it hard to accept that each night it could be the last time my baby will wake me in the night to let me know she has missed me. It’s not hard that she has wanted to cuddle all day, especially from 4pm till 6pm when I’m trying to cook dinner. It is hard knowing that one day she will be too big to carry on my chest while trying to peel potatoes with one hand. It’s suddenly not such a pain in the ass to sort the clothes she has grown out of already, now it breaks my heart that I’ll never have another baby to wear them.
Having number three has given me a heart I didn’t know I had. I didn’t know it could be so full, so complete and so thankful. As hectic, messy and loud as life has been this past 2 months there has not been a minute since having her that I would ever take back.