It's been well over 24 hours since I last pumped milk.
I didn't even realise. Not at first. And then it hit me last night when I considered how I seemed to have free time all of a sudden. And then I felt reality slap me hard in the face. It stung. My eyes pricked.
And I realised I probably didn't even appreciate the 'last time'.
One of the saddest things, my darling girl, about your adventurous start in life, is that I have never had the time to sit here and talk enough about how wonderful you are.
Here you are, racing through your first year, and I've never written you a letter. I've never spoken to you and captured all the words I have said to you, as you sleep on me in the quiet dark. You will never have heard or understood them.
But please know I have said them to you. Please know I have thought of you often. I have loved you with all of my heart. And I have surrendered to you completely.
Bill finishes preschool, or nursery as we've always called it, next week. I hadn't really thought about it too much. And I have to admit I am guilty of not thinking of Bill as much these days. When he was my one and only baby, his life was an obsession of mine. And, of course, it still is. But I have realised how hardy he is. How capable he is. And, in the most physical of ways, he doesn't need me anymore.
Does that make sense?
One thing I’ve not been great at recently, is looking after myself, for obvious reasons. I’m now a mum of two, and I’ve been going through some exceptional circumstances with a baby in special care.
I tend to come last at the moment, which is quite sad considering I gave birth just six weeks ago. I thought I’d be getting some rest and snuggling a newborn at home from the outset. But I spent the first six weeks and one day of her life in hospital and it’s been quite relentless.
Now she’s home, it’s just a case of adjusting to her care. And getting into a routine as a proper family of four. Finally.