First time mum/referee to a wild toddler. Self confessed rum enthusiast. Aspiring writer but hell of a procrastinator. Blogging about Mental Health and this motherhood malarkey from a refreshingly honest perspective.

I Don't Want to Blink Again....

I don't want to blink again. For the last time I did, you went from just a tiny new life cradled in my arms to your own little self roaming the world around you.
When I saw you for the first time, I couldn't grasp that you were real. It wouldn't quite sink in. You were alert yet peaceful, grasping a feeble grip of my finger. You were a bundle of perfection, small, and magic and all mine.
I have a creeping sadness to blink once more and watch you grow out of my arms and stumble those unsteady steps away from me. I want to steal your cuddles for a little bit longer. I want to be your favourite person for a little while more.

I don't want to blink again because when my eyes snap open, you'll be running through the school gates and my heart will be filled with that same bittersweet sadness. 
I'm torn to blink again, and see you become the man who becomes a husband, a father. How beautiful it will be to see you grow over the coming years but how it will have my heart aching a little that the time just won't standstill. To watch you become everything I could ever have hoped for and so long for those early days I wished so thoughtlessly away.

I regret that I didn't quite appreciate how fleeting the time is. That it passes too quickly. There isn't always tomorrow. There are some pictures I look back on and I can't quite place the memory. There are days I don't remember, lost to lack of sleep, or ushering it away. Not even fully realizing at the time just how significant the insignificant would become.

I know one day I'll blink and the house will be filled with a deafening silence. There will be no boisterous laughter filling the rooms. No toys scattered over every visible part of the floor that I know I will long to complain about tidying up.
There will be this strange hole in my chest that I won't know how to fill. A heaviness that can't be lifted. A sadness that refuses to shift. My time will be unoccupied. My days unfilled.

I will miss our messy routine of mundane day to day. I'll miss feeling bored and having nothing but Cbeebies and wasted hours to occupy our time. I'll long for the laughter that made my heart feel full and my cheeks ache with the smile that swelled across my face.
Or when I could spend hours marveling at you as you curiously investigated the world surrounding you, in complete wonder.

I should not have taken for granted those blissful moments, in the early days when I had the entire world asleep in my arms. Only now, do I find those hugs were limited. Those moments were never long enough. If I could, I would selfishly steal all of time just to capture more memories and lock them away.

It took me a long time, to find my way out of the chaos I was so consumed by in the beginning and it hurts that it stole so much precious time away. I was so crippled by anxiety, so fueled by fear that I couldn't allow myself to live in the then and now that was hurtling past with every blink.

It makes me appreciate every second now. Even the bad days. The days where my eyes are stinging. The days where my patience is wearing thin. The days where I just can't see it far enough or I'm spending another night fighting you to sleep.
I rejoice in every moment now because in a blink, the moment is snapped away. In a blink, it's gone.




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