Having a child is a constant tug between loss and abundance
Reflections on four years of parenthood (and why I need to toughen up!)
How do I know I’m cut out for this? The last four years have been a dense, physical kind of tough: walking a mile carrying a crying child, her scooter and a bag of wet swimming stuff tough. Letting her use me as a climbing frame, take my side of the bed, wipe snot on my shoulder tough. weathering tantrums that come like storms. Absorbing the angry or playful - let’s call them playful - slaps of little hands. That hurt, is all I’ll say to her. We don’t hurt people.
Then there’s the wrestling and wrangling into buggies and car seats and up stairs, pushing swings higher higher higher, racing and chasing and running on ramped up adrenaline - keep her safe!
And we’ve made it this far.
It’s my daughter’s fourth birthday today and I’m probably too soft for what’s to come.
Just thinking about her leaving nursery this week makes hot tears prickle in my eyes so I press my palms over them. I’M FINE, I sniff. But am I?
I suddenly feel so emotional about all of it: but mainly the very fact that I have a child. You know, that really wasn’t a given when, as a queer teenager, I tried to picture my future. And having tried to become pregnant with a sibling for my daughter, to have tried six times - realising I wanted it more and more, then letting go; watching that idea float gently up and off, out of reach like a helium balloon that was tied too loose to a tiny wrist… I guess it just seems like a miracle I’m a parent at all.
Maybe it’s the 40 degree weather and the lack of sleep, but I’m in a sentimental stew.
Having a child is a constant tug between loss and abundance. Everything changes. We say goodbye to so much all the time to make space for what’s next, which is always so all-encompassing you can easily forget what came before it ….
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