I’m finding myself in reflective frame of mind. A week today it will be my ten year anniversary of starting my job as a specialty doctor in Emergency Medicine at the Royal Cornwall Hospital. They’ve been a pretty great ten years if I’m honest, moving into my first proper house with my boyfriend, getting engaged, getting pregnant, getting married, becoming a mother, buying our home, becoming a pet-owner to three annoying chickens, becoming a mother second time around, growing a garden from scratch. It has not been a quiet, relaxing ten years.
I was suddenly hit by the fact that when I first introduced myself and my family on this blog I was a mummy to a four year old and a one year old. I am now the mum to a seven year old and a four year old. Come September they will both be in full time school. Life is now very different.
I own my own body once more. I am no longer holding a child at all times. I haven’t carried one on my body in a sling for almost exactly a year.
I couldn’t tell you the last time, but I haven’t breastfed for weeks and I think, after more than seven years we are done with boob at last. Both my children sleep in their own beds (in our room admittedly), but I get to choose who cuddles me as I sleep now, and I choose my husband and not my kids, who are far more likely to kick me or whack me in the face as they wriggle and turn and starfish in the bed. My brain functions more like it used to, now that it actually gets some sleep, and my body has started to straighten after years of holding and feeding and picking up and lying awkwardly in bed.
I wouldn’t really change any of it, but sometimes I do think about different paths my life could have taken. Most of my classmates from uni are consultants now, and I discovered yesterday that one of them is a real life, actual, TV doc!! I could have been on This Morning with Philip Schoffield and Holly Willoughby if only I had made different life choices.
Whilst looking back at all that has changed in the past ten years I am drawn to look towards the future. I think, if I am honest with myself, that my baby days are done. I was turning out the attic cupboard today looking for our tent, and came across my stash of newborn cloth nappies. It’s probably safe for me to pass those on, but I can’t quite bring myself to. The same with my maternity clothes, and the cutest of the newborn knits, the last of my baby slings and all my books on pregnancy and baby names. I think that is a time that is passed, and the older my children get, the more distant those memories become. Now I am finding myself looking forward to introducing my daughter to Doctor Who and Strictly, watching my son learning to read and write, family trips with slightly less whinging, and who knows, maybe even the occasional lie-in. And where I myself go from here, who knows. Hopefully consultancy and a really fulfilling career, though hopefully not at the cost of my sanity or my family. Hopefully a really happy relationship with my husband, as adults and not just parents. Hopefully one day ditching all the worries about what might have been, and looking at the future with excitement and not fear.
Inner Grace 