Poetry of Pregnancy, New Born, Motherhood and Parenting

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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 realised 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
Looking like crap

One whole year to realise
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