Monday 25 March 2013

A moment missed

moving-house-boxes

When my daughter was four months old I decided it would be the thing to sell up and shift our new and amorphous life together two-hundred miles south. I should note that it was just the two of us – had been from the start. So the reality of the idea was something of an undertaking.

Off my face on hormones, I rode trains up and down the country with my baby, and roughshod over our golden chance to do nothing together. As she slept, I hunched over boxes. As she lay across my body, feeding, I soothed my bleeping phone with my fingers – ‘PROPERTY ALERT!’ it wailed insistently.

Our house was sold. I cried with relief that there would be no more viewings to dementedly tidy for, no more awkwardly kicking the breast pump under the sofa or hiding a damp nappy under the cat. And relief that soon my girl and I would relax again. Then our purchase fell through. We got back on the trains.

Oh yes, it was exciting at the start. A happy plan fuelled by a kind of nesting instinct gone wild. But, woah, the effort it took in the end. For months I was rheumy eyed and batshit crazy from exhaustion, with the jumpy fast-twitch reflexes of an overwrought racehorse.

We're here now, though, by the sea. Have been since my daughter was nine months old. And we love it. But the thing is, I missed her. She never left my side, in fact she barely left my arms, but while I poured over surveys, smiled weakly at estate agents and went quietly loopy from overload, I missed her.

In my odd postnatal explosion of activity, I forgot to pay attention. What I should have been doing was quietly watching, because something ephemeral and wonderful was happening in front of me; my daughter was being five, six, seven, eight months old for the first and last time. And I still miss it now.

4 comments:

  1. Oh do you know, I think most of us miss it even if we're not moving house. My two are v close in age, and when the youngest came along, it was amazing the number of times I gasped 'oh, the other one used to fold himself into a triangle/hold his fists like that/whatever!' and I had completely forgotten, within a year. I started frantically writing diaries to try and keep the moments. Don't beat yourself up about it. She won't remember the moments either, or hold it against you.

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    1. Yes, yes thank you, you are definitely right. As I was writing I realised that I basically just miss every stage that has gone by! And I'm hopeless at sitting down and just soaking it all up while it's actually happening.

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  2. Aaah this is sad and beautiful. I know how you feel. I missed a lot of my son during some wonderful months, when he was two. I was very heavily pregnant with his sister, exhausted; and then overwhelmed with caring for a new baby (while recovering from a caesarean that opened up then got infected). It was hard. But then I got to know him again....I suppose parenting has to have these ups and downs.

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    1. Oh God, horrid! The same thing happened to me after emergency c-section. Isn't it awful?! Had another week in hospital. You're absolutely right, though, seems all parents have these feelings, no matter what's going on - probably because it's totally impossible to do things as you imagine (dream) you will.

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