BABY TALK
PART
Diary of a MUM AS ROBIN APPROACH E S H ER SECON D BIRTH DAY, Mar tha Alexander SHAR E S H ER L AST EVER IN STALM ENT
S
o. This is my last Diary of a Mum and I feel sad about it. Partly because it’s the end of a role I loved – writing about my (rather shambolic) life as a new mother was a dream come true – but also because it signifies that my daughter is no longer a baby. She’s a walking, talking person who can choose her own clothes and say things like “poo monster”. It’s been two-and-a-half years since I began this column. Back in 2016 I was four months pregnant and wrote of an aversion to fine fragrance and a beanshaped life growing hair and fingernails inside my stomach. Now, as Robin’s second birthday approaches, I can’t believe how far we’ve come. The most important thing I’ve learnt (aside from practical stuff like changing a nappy one-handed, making sweet potato purée or typing with one hand because the other is feeding an already milk-drunk baby) is that being a parent is such a personal passage. We are fed information from everyone and everywhere. But the truth is, much of navigating motherhood is about gut instinct. I hadn’t a clue what I was doing and still don’t much of the time. Learning to trust myself has been one of the most gratifying things about being a mum. I’m not always right and I do often ask for help, but on the whole I rely on my intuition. I’m not having another baby. No matter how many times people ask me or how many comments are made about the pitfalls of only having one child, I am just not interested in having a second. Pregnancy was tough, labour was grim, and babies are hard work. Besides, you can’t improve on perfection, right?! Maybe I’ll change my mind in a few years – but I don’t think so. I love my girl. I love our family. I love our dynamic. I finally feel like I’m both a mother and in control of my professional life and don’t (constantly) look like I spent the night in a BIFFA bin. I have achieved a balance that at one point I thought was lost forever in a quagmire of soiled baby wipes and acute fretfulness. I absolutely salute any mother who wants to have more babies, just as I respect any woman who chooses not to have any children at all and support any would-be
parents in an often difficult, painful quest. “You’ll change your mind,” say absolute strangers to me about my reproductive choices. Another favourite: “She’ll be so lonely.” Don’t ask people if they are having another baby. Just don’t do it. They might not want one. They might desperately want one. They might have just found out that it’s going to be almost impossible to have one. It blows my mind how many people want to impress their opinions about motherhood onto mothers. Why can’t we all just do our own thing? For me, one is hard enough. In the park yesterday Robin shouted “I’m a big girl…” to a group of older kids. One of them, a tall girl with a bubblegum pink scooter complete with handlebar tassels said, “no you’re not I can see your nappy,” before racing away giggling. It’s oversensitive, but my heart broke a little bit for my daughter, who stood blinking in the sun, confused and wrong-footed. She has so much to learn about the nuances of life – so much of which I don’t have the answers for because I’m still working it out myself. My heart wants to keep her safe, to protect her from sorrow, pain and fear but my head knows that these things are part of life and instead I need to provide her with the right toolkit to help her navigate them. This might be my last column but there are so many firsts to come: a big girl bed, a salon haircut (so far my mother has been fashioning mean bowl cuts with the kitchen scissors) and of course the first day of school. I have to say, however, that I am dreading the teenage years, which if she’s anything like me will involve contrariness, hormone engulfment and an ill-advised tattoo. But I’ve got a decade before then. I’ve loved writing every single instalment of this column and have been so proud to share this often chaotic journey with you all. It might not always have been pretty but it was absolutely authentic. I’m handing over to the brilliant Joanna McGarry. I wish her so much luck with both the column and her motherhood journey. As for me, Robin will always be my tiny little baby. bl Twitter: @marthalondon
This oversized tee just about sums it up – plus £5 from every shirt goes to charity mothers2mothers Cotton tee £35, thefmlystore.com
Next time: we welcome our new monthly columnist Joanna McGarry as she enters the world of motherhood
babylondon.co.uk | JUL/AUG 2018 | 89