If your family timeline looks a little more plot twist than perfect plan… this one’s for you.
Dear Bobby & Florence,
I wanted to take a moment to put into words all the thoughts that I’ve been feeling in my heart lately. Your new sister is just over four months old and I’m overwhelmed, exhausted, and exhilarated- all at once -but through it all, your feelings and emotions have never left the forefront of my mind. It’s fair to say that we’ve been through a lot together as our own little team these past few years. It’s no secret that our road has been bumpy: full of change, challenges, and unexpected turns. And as your mum, that weighs heavily on me. I know there were times you had to walk beside me through situations you never got to choose, and that’s something I carry, a lot heavier than anyone could understand. Yet now, standing here with a sense of calmness and stability finally settling over our lives, I feel both relief and pride for us all. I feel we made it through the fog. And I am so proud to be your mumma.
All you both ever wanted was for me to give you another sibling. Apologies, Bob, that it was in fact another sister after you so desperately wanted some more male presence in your life. Oopsies. But watching you with your baby sister lately has undone me in the most beautiful way. The way you each rush to her side when she squeals, how you show her off to your footy & netball friends like she’s the greatest prize we've ever won… it’s magic. You’ve wrapped her into our world without hesitation, like she’s always belonged here. Maybe she has.
In all honesty, though, there’s been a guilt lingering in my chest lately. I always knew it would come, I think it’s completely normal and I know I wouldn’t be a good mum without feeling it. So much of my time and energy is being swallowed up by the baby fog. I’m tired. I’m distracted. I’m constantly saying “just give me a second” …sometimes more than I hug you in a day. And that stings, admitting it out loud and even writing it down for the world to read.
There are moments when I see you both out of the corner of my eye.. getting your own food, entertaining yourselves in your room without being asked, helping each other when I feel it should really be me helping… and I feel this ache that I can’t quite describe. I want you to know that it’s not because I don’t see you. It’s because I see you so clearly, growing up right in front of me while my arms are often full of responsibility for someone else now too. And yet, you never complain. You just love. And adjust. Just like you always have.
I’m sorry I haven’t always got it right. I’ve made mistakes along the way - especially when it came how easily I let people come into your lives. I know there have been moments that caused you hurt or confusion, and I take full responsibility for that. You didn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of grown-up decisions. I can’t go back and change it, but I can promise that I’ve learned from it. Love should always feel safe, honest, and steady, and I made a promise to myself 18 months ago that that’s the only kind I’ll ever accept for us again.
And then there’s Maddy.
It’s something else entirely, watching someone choose to love and parent your kids like they’re her own. Watching your relationships with her bloom even further from what it already was, has been one of the most rewarding parts of my life. To see your faces light up when she walks through the door, the jokes you guys share around the dinner table every night (that I’m not included in!), the memories we make everyday as a as family and the trust you’ve built… it reassures me that love doesn’t have to be bound by blood to feel like home. She’s not trying to replace anyone, and you’ve never made her feel like she had to. You’ve just allowed her to be, and the openness you carry towards her is something I hope you know I am so proud of. Maddy has bought a stillness into our home that I have prayed for for years. All I ever wanted was peace & emotional stability for you both, but I also hope I’ve taught you to never settle. I’m just sorry it took me some time to get us there.
One day, I hope you’ll both look back and remember these wild, messy, love-filled years. I hope you’ll have learnt that life doesn’t always go the way you once planned. That you don’t always have control over what happens, and though when you do - that you might just fuck it up a few times too. I hope that you remember that Mum was always there for everything. She worked so hard to never miss a milestone, a Mother’s Day morning tea, a footy game or quiet arm tickle in bed when you couldn’t sleep the night before school.
For now, it’s the sleepless nights, the cuddles on the couch with a baby wedged between us and some spew on your school uniform, the kitchen bench chats that end in laughter or punch ons (or both).
I hope you remember that even on the days when I looked overwhelmed, I was never too busy to love you with every fibre of my being.
Because I do. Always.
Love Mumma xx
