By Jess Urlichs
My second child, you may have come in that order, but you aren’t second rate.
The only second you are to me is my second language, the one I had to learn because you were so different to my first.
My second wind, when things get too much, and some days they do, you look at me with a patience that gives me the grace to be patient with myself.
My second nature, yes you’re your own little person, but things were a little easier this time round. I rested into it without the resistance of a first time Mum.
My second skin, I treasure our cuddles under a blanket where I can breathe you in like an old book.
I’ll admit, I wasn’t up every second checking if you were breathing in your cot, I could feel it in my heart’s rhythm while I slept.
I didn’t check my app quite as often as to whether you were an avocado or the size of a pomegranate, and your scrap book hasn’t come together yet… in fact it’s still a thought in my mind.
Yes, your clothes might be second hand and the milestone photos aren’t as planned out, sometimes they’re a few days late.
You hear me yell more than I’d like to admit, you didn’t arrive into peace and quiet, my soft sing song voice is usually interrupted by a crash somewhere and then more yelling.
