Scary stories from a lovely place
A year ago today I wrote this post about what it was like to know that the following day I would be having a baby. A year ago today I went to sleep after crying with my husband about how much I feared the next day’s labour and delivery.
I should have cried out of fear for not just the next day, but for the year that would follow – having two children 13 months apart. The lack of sleep, the nappy changing, the fights to get dressed and the rushed shower/dinner/conversation/hair styling/cooking.
Tomorrow is my little Deer’s birthday. We had planned an afternoon tea at the beach to celebrate, but the little guy is poorly sick and not up to socialising. He’s not up to much, although he can handle screaming all night and moaning all day.
It’s been a tough few weeks around here. Family grief, more family grief, Stephen starting a new job (as a Project Manager, which he has described as “it’s like they’ve taken all the fun things out of architecture”), lots of ruminating about our decision to move from Johannesburg, long days alone with my gang and very, very little sleep.
But it’s not all bad. It never is. Tonight Stephen and I went to my favourite restaurant; Fireworks in Austinmer. Stephen took Friday off to help me and we spent a quiet day on the couch and looking after the sick little ones. Last Sunday we shared a delicious roast lamb with new friends. I’m at the library pretty much every day, making the most of the puzzles that make animal noises, the prolific DVD collection and the sea life mural. Silas refers to yoghurt as “yo, yo, yo” and if it’s shouted at the top of his lungs it’s all the better. The littlest guy has been sleeping a lot in my arms wearing the most angelic face.
We agreed tonight that we didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into a year ago today, awaiting our family of three to become four. Some things have been, and continue to be, so hard. But it’s so good too. And we know we are fortunate to have these little guys and to be able to care for them.