I am lucky. I have wonderful friends. Some of those have allowed me to be a part of their children’s lives and I am hugely grateful for that. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard sometimes.
The cuddles, the giggles, the playtimes, I love them all. There really isn’t anything quite like hearing a little baby laugh at your stupid cooing noises and annoying tickles, or watching them accomplish small feats for the first time like climbing the stairs or using the toilet. But when they’re not your children, there is a little thing inside you that can be quite painful. It is bitter sweet.
A friend visited a few days ago with her two children. I smiled from ear to ear while they were here. I find it just fascinating watching them interact with each other and react to different situations. I’m so full with love for them. I can’t imagine what it must feel like if they are your own.
Then they left. And my jealousy superseded.
Don’t get me wrong, I would not change being a part of their lives for anything. Watching her being a Mum to those boys is incredible and I’m so proud of the amazing job she has done raising them. All I want is to be able to do that too.
I suppose I deal with it by focusing on the enjoyment I get out of every minute spent with them and remembering that my time will come. I can’t wait for the days when we can take our children out together. At the end of the day, she is a gem of a friend to have; she has all the knowledge and she can teach me the ropes when it is my turn. I’ll have someone to call at 2am when I can’t the little terror to sleep and need reminding of how much I do actually love my baby. (After all, she will probably be awake with her two anyway!) I’ll have someone to cry on when I miss my life that had no responsibilities. I’ll have someone to talk me through the fifty different types of dummies that I’ll be staring at in amazement in Mothercare. How can I not be chuffed about that?
So it’s not all bad.
In fact it isn’t bad at all.