My son is one week old.
I am sat here feeling tears forming in my eyes as I struggle to recall EXACTLY what it felt like to feel him move inside me.
How can it be that I can so quickly forget something that I felt every day for four months?
I remember the little jabbing movements of the second trimester, and then the big rolling waves of the late third trimester. But I can’t put myself back there entirely. It already feels like a faded memory.
He was meant to be our last. Three was always the plan. I’d have more in a heartbeat but for many reasons, three suits us, three works. I don’t know if I can give enough of myself to four children, and Sam, as he has told me many times, is most definitely done at three.
I don’t think I’ll ever be one of those people that just knows when they are done. I don’t think I’ll ever be ‘done’, underlined with a full stop at the end. But, at some point, you have to stop. And yet I stumble over saying “third and final”, I can’t bring myself to state that he is categorically our last. Our final.
I can’t imagine never doing this again. I absolutely do not want to accept that I am never doing this again.
I’m wobbling every time I think of something we’ll never do again. No more midwives, no more green book, purple book and red book.
Am I to never again walk out of the antenatal department clutching a grainy black and white scan picture?
Will I never again have a new person to meet? Experience that new baby euphoria? Will all the future newborn babies that I will hold from this point belong to other people?
When he grows out of his clothes, is that it? No reason to store them away in the loft, no new sibling to hand them down to? Just the very last time that item of clothing will be worn by one of my own?
When I read this back in a years time, swamped with children and racked with sleep deprivation, will I think I was out of my mind for even considering that three wasn’t enough? Will I be looking forward to the next chapter of our lives with a weary sense of relief? Will I be comfortable with the sense of finality that feels overwhelming right now?
I don’t know how it’s going to pan out. But right now, I’m feeling every milestone like a ton of emotion-laden bricks.
Right now, I am not ready for this to be the last time ever.
The image above was taken by Roma Rose Photography – Leanne’s newborn posing skills are seriously impressive, and I love her clean, natural aesthetic – not one novelty prop to be found! I don’t have any nice photos of myself with either of my older boys when they were this tiny, and I’m very glad I finally forced myself to be on the other side of the camera this time round.