I didn’t quite expect the thump, you know that middle landing, directly into your chest cavity type of punch.
I’ve been so busy with your sister, I’ve been so busy pushing myself at work, to gain gratification that I was worthy of a promotion.
Lost in a working Mum’s world, I forgot. I selfishly forgot.
I never thought I’d be one of those mums, the type of ones that are crying at the very thought. The ones that mourn over the prospect.
Our last baby, is starting school.
It wasn’t until it stopped me in my tracks, and if it could it would be looking me dead in the eye. For extra measure, giving me those stares that goes down deep in my soul.
I wasn’t anticipating to be pinged with a pinch of sadness or is that guilt? This moment in last baby’s life is enormous. Not teeny weeny, it’s huge.
I admit with my first, I was so keen for him to put down the play doh that I would find squished and moulded in places I never knew possible and pick up the phonics. I couldn’t wait to experience the school runs, I couldn’t wait to proudly show off I had a school baby!
My daughter, was a whirlwind of emotions raging from anxiety, apprehension and anguish that it wasn’t the right setting for her. We had the lock downs, and major surgery… she was home more than she was school.
But my little boy, my little NICU baby. My little ginger fox. The baby that with every one of my tears, was a breath that you was fighting for. How are we here Parker-James?
You’ve over NICU, multiple infections in your first year of being here, your breastfeeding journey lasted 20 months, which was possibly my favourite memory. You’ve grown out of your shell recently and we’ve had the cherished pleasure of watching you explore the world in roam for another shell to claim as your own, but that too will be outgrown, and no longer fit as require as you grow.
As much as I’m sad, that this chapter of my motherhood has come to an end. I’m excited for the chapter of being a mum to 3 school children starts.
I can’t wait to see you face, as it beams with pride when you can write your name. Or when you bring your first phonic book home. A book that you call your own, instead of pinching your brother and sister’s on the sly. I know you’ll be immensely proud when you pick your first reading book and I then have 3 stories a night to listen too, just like the 3 of you use to listen to mummy.
It won’t be long until we’re singing you’re favourite nursery rhyme which will now consist of, 3 little ducks went school one day, over the hill and far away.