My darling Squidge
We are now back in local lockdown and your mummy doesn’t really know what she’s doing. We’re trying to keep your routine going and you seem happy enough. Your resilience has always amazed me.
Mummy is starting to struggle. I have a sense of purpose getting you ready, brushing your hair, giving you your “special” vitamins sweetie. I wash bottles and put the washing machine on instinctively, spending the day looking after your sister and trying to complete uni work. Winter is drawing in and the sky is getting darker. Things are getting harder.
We again now can”t enter Nanny and Granddad’s house, but we can go sit outside the pub. Who wants to do that in this weather? So I’m feeling hemmed in a bit, worrying constantly that you feel the same because now even the park isn’t an option.
The last few days, I have felt, in the only way I can describe it “heavy”. Dark like the clouds, like everything is too much damn effort.
I look at you and your baby sister, in our nice, warm home that we are making nice changes to (you, you beautiful big girl, are about to move into a single “big girl” bed) and I know how lucky I am. I feel “bad” for feeling bad, for not knowing why when I am simultaneously grateful for my many blessings. That’s you Squidge. But still, I struggle.
I mean, it can’t be a surprise. The ever changing rules and regulations are enough to make anyone’s head spin. When will we be free again, when will people stop being so selfish as to keep spreading this virus? You may not remember any different at this point. I don’t even know what I hope for you in that regard, what would be better.
I spoke to your dad about it, the frustration of not really being clear as to my “heaviness”. And then, I said “I miss Squidge.”
Your dad smiled sympathetically. Something had made sense to him in my words and he very gently helped me make sense of my sadness.
“Squidge has been your companion through all this. She’s been the one next to you through the pandemic, the pregnancy. She’s been your constant.”
There it is, my beautiful baby girl. While I am proud of the decision to give you back as much of your routines and world as I can, to give you different walls to look at, new company and experiences to enjoy, it means that I am here, adjusting to this new life with your baby sister – without you.
You who I have chatted to and cuddled and played with and shared meals with these last 6 months. You who have made me laugh and helped me so much and cuddled me when I have cried with the pain of pregnancy or the overwhelming sadness of this mad world.
There is some guilt there too. I am the parent, I am not your responsibility. I worried so much about how you would adjust to sharing me and your dad with another person, how unfair it would seem to you to have our attentions divided when your sister came.
But you have been more brilliant than I could ever have hoped and I am so proud of you. I do not ever want you to doubt that you have my whole heart and that yes, I miss you when you skip out the door each day. My beautiful girl, my partner in crime.
I love so much to hear about your day every evening when you come home. But I love more, snuggling in bed beside you to read stories and sing songs, to have you with me to snuggle and talk to. Mothers are selfish in this way. We are not complete until the incredible humans we are blessed with are back with us to make our hearts full. That’s you Squidge. My beautiful, funny, strong, loving girls. That’s you.
My love always