My second child

Fran Jorgensen Photography

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. 

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