A moment of precious calm in a busy season
Motherhood is exhausting. It’s busier than any other job I’ve ever had and there are many days when I get to teatime and realised I’ve barely sat down all day and there’s still plenty to do.
Most days I dash around getting everything set up for bedtime while dinner cooks to save myself five minutes after we’ve eaten (or, rather, to make us five minutes less late getting upstairs).
It almost always feels like a race against time to get the children into their pyjamas, teeth brushed, stories read, prayers said, milk drunk and tucked into bed as I cling to the hope that I might manage to find a small sliver of me time while still getting to sleep at a reasonable hour (who am I kidding; the ‘reasonable hour’ bit happens once in a blue moon?).
Then there is a moment. With Charlotte in bed, Daniel continues his bedtime feed. And, eventually, there is the moment when he decides he’s had his fill, unlatches and flops his head down, nestled against me. It’s a moment that speaks volumes. In the quiet after a busy day it demands that I sit and soak it in. The peace, the calmness, the immense beauty of the little boy I gave birth to knowing me as the safe place where he can happily start his night’s sleep.
As I watch his little face, listen to and feel the rhythm of his breathing, I feel like this most precious of moments could last forever.
And yet I know it won’t. I know that only too soon he’ll be moving on from my bedroom. Nursing him to sleep will be different. I won’t hear the reassuring sound of him breathing as I settle down to sleep myself. The sounds I hear from him in the night will be through a monitor or through a wall. He will no longer smell that reassuring scent that tells him Mummy is right there with him through the night.
In the blink of an eye the baby days are marching on, leaving me trailing in their wake feeling certain it was only yesterday we were bringing each of our babies home from hospital.
I know a new season of parenting won’t be far away. A season of school runs and uniform labelling rather than night feeds and milk-drunk cuddles. And I relish the challenge that that and subsequent seasons will bring.
And, at the same time, I sit here cradling my little boy, in an arm that’s slowly getting pins and needles under his weight, and I wish this particular season – even this particular moment – could last forever.
And I remember the words of Ecclesiastes chapter 3, verse 1 in the Bible, which tell us: “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens…” And I know this season will inevitably pass far sooner than I would like.
Motherhood is exhausting but I won’t half miss the special exhaustion of the baby stage and the moments of quiet calm amid the chaos when times moves us on.
Sarah Moore is the author of For the Love of Lentil, A journey of longing, loss and abundant grace, which tells the story of her experience of pregnancy and miscarriage. Copies of the book are available here.