That First Year

The year that two became three..(No. More. Hot. Tea.)

The year of not leaving your side for more than an hour.. and feeling revived from a two minute shower.

The year of white noise, cuddles, and baby slings. As you slowly adjust to the outside things.

The year of sleep regressions, monkey impressions..panicked Google searches (too many to mention).

The year I realized that women really do hold all the powers! Rocking and pacing for hours and hours..

Being more selective of the company I keep.. and dreading that question, “So how does he sleep?”

The year of building all the rods for my own back, binning the baby books, and not looking back.

Endless walks with the pram to help you to nap..pounding the pavements lap after lap.

One whole year to realize that there’s no wrong or right. There’s what works.. what you need in the middle of the night.

The year of doubts and fears and bending the ears of family and friends. He’ll sleep eventually. But when?

But you’re more than your sleep struggles; so much more! You’re that look of wonder at a knock on the door. Your giggles, your protests, and that tiny roar.

Beaming with pride, as you take in your stride. Learning to roll, crawl and stand..and wave your wee hand.

A sudden respect for those who’ve done all this before! But with two, with three, with four! (Or more!)

The year of grand plans and dreams of these homemade cuisines. But some days just called for eggs, chips and beans.

And yet somehow you thrived, and we just about survived..the hourly wake-ups. (And some almost-breakups.)

You really did shake-up..

These two kids.

Words: Karen McMillan

Taken from “Mother Truths: Poems on Early Motherhood”

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