Raising your last child …why you hold on just a little tighter this time around.

“It hits a little different the last time round ” is something that I have found myself saying quite a lot over the last few years.

I’m naturally referring to bringing up my last child, which is a bittersweet journey of so many first moments but also so many last moments too.

Our dynamic

I’d always declared that I would bever have children over 30.

Mostly, because I was from a generation who were indoctrined with the fact that our biological clock magically burst and turned into a pumpkin if we didn’t get married and have children before we turned 30 and also because I wanted to be young enough to enjoy my children.

And so, all 6 of my children were born before I turned 30. Infact my youngest daughter was born exactly 5 days before my 30th birthday! ( talk about cutting it close)

I’d had a miscarriage before her and was told I wouldn’t carry any more children to term and so her birth was my little miracle. The rainbow I needed.

Many years later, now in my early 40’s and raising two teens and with four of my children grown adults, I discovered I was indeed blessed with another baby.

It was here that I first discovered how different things were when you’re carrying your last child.

Nostalgic memories

I hadn’t enjoyed my pregnancies.

With my first child I was 17 and unmarried.  Being a single teen mom in the 90’s meant that society automatically shunned you. You were reminded of your “sin” at every upturned nose. I learnt quickly to not be worried about the opinions or approval of others and to rely on myself. However,  as you know, all mothers need support and in my opinion, teen moms more so. Not only are they navigating Puberty and life but to become responsible for another human being is a huge task, one in which a strong support group plays a lasting factor.

With my boys, I was still unmarried as I honestly knew in my heart I could love my children forever but I wasn’t really sure about the being married forever thing. This type of thinking was again frowned upon,  especially in my church and it was because our church wouldn’t let me dedicate my children as I wasn’t married that I finally decided maybe I needed a wedding band.

By the time my 4th child was born, I was now married but had too many children according to society, and so the stupid questions started ” Dont you have a TV?” “Are they all yours?” ” I hope you not having more”

Again I learnt to ignore those around me and enjoy my family.

By the time I had my miscarriage, I had five children and I remember sitting in the gynecologist office, heartbroken, in pain and having lost so much blood that I was on the verge of passing out and the nurse looking at me and saying ” It’s OK you have others ”

These heartless words were to me the last stroke of cruelty. Her words cut deeper than the loss of my baby. Her implication that you could simply just replace children as if they had no value shocked me, and to this day, I don’t believe anyone has ever said anything more cruel to me.

With my last baby I naturally, by now,had learnt to not make a fuss and get on with it.

And then came Hamish!

I was no longer in my nieve 20’s. I’d long passed worrying about societies thoughts and I’d entered those dangerously liberating days of my 40’s where I had found my voice and knew what I wanted.

I realized that I had never celebrated any of my pregnancies. I’d never had a gender reveal  or taken milestone photos. I’d never recorded those magical days of growing my babies and I had no record of just how special these moments were.

I’d also not been able to share much more than a “feel here ” as the baby moved or the birth with my first husband and I now had a partner who was in this with me every step of the way.

So, I recorded it all. I soaked in the moments, recorded the firsts and have a full scan diary as we watched our little boy grow from a bean to a boy.

A reminder

As I took another scan, wrote another milestones in the baby book and prepared our nursery ( which was a corner of our room) for this little boy I was also gently reminded that these were also the last times that I would be doing any of these things.

This was the last time I would grow a little baby and feel their tiny hands and feet kicking and moving in the silent evenings. It was the last time I would watch a scan and see my little baby before they were born. It was the last time I would get a nursery ready and the last time that I would give birth.

In all the joy and excitement of those first moments, there were a lot of silent lasts.

Children playing in the park
Children playing in the park

The firsts and the lasts

Those First moments we wait for with anticipation. We mark them off in milestone books and read about them in every parent book, blog and pamphlet.

First smile, first tooth, first step, first day of school….

The lasts creep up on us. They don’t give us notice. They aren’t openly discussed or read about. They hang there, with an air of trepidation and silently pounce on us when we least expect it.

The last time your baby crawls, the last nappy, last breast or bottle feed, last time they need you to dress them, bath them, tuck them in or read them a story at night.

The lasts hit a moms heart with a tornado of bittersweet emotion.We celebrate our children growing and becoming independent but we are also losing little moments each time a new last hits.

So it hits different

And so, it hits different when you are raising your last child. You are more conscious of the last moments. You have the knowledge and experience to know where the firsts are and how to navigate them but no one really prepares you for those lasts. Because of this you tend to savour the moments just a bit more.

I find I’m not as strict with Hamish as I was my older children. ( Don’t get me wrong, those who’ve met me know I don’t tolerate bad manners, disrespect or destructive behaviour) but I find I don’t stress the small things. We calmly navigate most obstacles and because I know that a test score, a bad word or a silly choice will not define him, I can calmly guide him through these instead of try to discipline him through them.

I’m more tolerant and I know that a day off or a later bedtime occasionally won’t harm him. I know that he can eat a cupcake for breakfast on a Friday and still eat healthy every other day, and I know that letting him run in the rain will create a core memory, not a cold.

We picnic more, we play games more, we explore more and I now put my work aside more often. I leave the dishes until he sleeps and I say Yes more often than NO!

Whilst I always read, crafted and played with my other children, I’m more intentional and present now. I know that I have 18 holidays to make magical, only a few Christmas days where he still believes and a handful of Easters to hunt for eggs.

We make more memories and record them. I want these photos. One day, I will forget the things we did and I want to remember these magical moments, even the mundane moments.

We talk more, connect more and spend more time Celebrating the firsts, enjoying the ordinary every day moments, and understanding that we can never truly prepare our heart for those last moments.

Final words

Our children need to grow. They need to become independent and as much as we want to hold onto them being little, we have to let go a little at a time, day by day, and give them the wings that they will eventually need to fly our nests and build a life for themselves.

The last moments are just as important as the first moments, even though they tug at our mom hearts differently.

 

 

6 Replies to “Raising your last child …why you hold on just a little tighter this time around.”

  1. Such a touching post. I could only have Nicky at 38 after trying for many years and I do think there is a maturity that comes with being an older mom. I do agree biologically we are built to have kids younger but if it doesn’t work out that way there are other advantages too. 😉

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