You will eventually relax into this. I promise.
One grey afternoon, you’ll be making dinner, whilst your ridiculously cute three-year-old sous-chef sits atop the kitchen counter, crumbling Oxo cubes and sniffing thyme.
With one arm cautiously holding her in place and the other haphazardly grating cheese, you’ll finally feel at home in this not-so-new skin of yours.
You’ll hand her a secret slice of cheddar and jokingly whisper “Shhh!”, the same way that your Dad used to.
She’ll look up at you, face beaming, delighted with her unexpected tidbit.
It hits you. You’re enjoying this.
Finally, all the other stuff that once felt so immediate, will start to leave you. The tiredness. Oh, the tiredness that you thought would haunt you forever. The constant doubting of your own
ability, that you thought would never leave you alone. The fear that you will never, ever, get the hang of this.
Because you will, my love.
Not every day. But some of the days. And that is a welcome breakthrough.
And all the rest will slowly fade into the deep recesses until the enduring feeling you’re left with is,
“I love you. I love you. I love you”.
Today was a good day.