Yesterday, I had a sad hour or so. We’d had a lovely morning, the girls had stayed at their grandparents for the night, their regular fortnightly Saturday night, and we had decided on a whim to go to Brighton for the morning. It was an almost sunny day, the kind of day we rejoice about as Brits in February and we didn’t want to spend another morning in the town where we live. It was a really nice morning, we didn’t do very much, just walked around, talking about our girls mostly, those parent moments where you can talk to the other person in the world who reveres your children as much as you do. J bought the new baby some little suede pumps and we ended our visit by popping into Mothercare.
Everything for a new baby is so expensive. And it made me immeasurably sad. When we started trying to conceive, and even when we did, we absolutely could afford to have a baby. For reasons, political and otherwise that don’t need going in to, we are struggling. J has a better job, we are on a much better path than we were, but things are harder financially. We also got rid of a lot as the girls were growing up, we just don’t have anywhere to store anything, my parents kindly kept all of the clothes so apart from those, we need everything. Oh, we have a cot. It needs a new mattress but we have a cot.
I don’t want a nursery (ha, like she won’t sleep in an alcove in our bedroom) full of new things. It definitely doesn’t matter if the pram is second hand, it doesn’t matter if 95% of her wardrobe belonged to her sisters first. It doesn’t matter but it makes me feel like a failure. I’d like the option of buying it, I think, the option of buying a new pram, the option of buying new clothes or a bouncer or whatever it might be.
I make the mistake of watching YouTube videos about people, very privileged people, who get a LOT of baby things delivered to them. The latest buggy, a snuzzpod (which I covet but definitely do not need), thing after thing that they can probably afford themselves. It isn’t jealousy, more envy. Yes, I am envious of the things that money can afford but I have no desire for their lives.
In the last few years, since becoming pregnant with the girls, I honestly have not coveted anyone else’s life. I can feel envious, I can be frustrated by the opportunities that some get that we don’t, without wanting to live anyone else’s life but my own. I love my life, I have the family that I have always wanted and I am happy. Sad moments can occur within happiness without altering that overall happiness.
Once the baby is here, looking adorable in clothes that I’m sentimental about because her big sisters wore them, riding in a pram bought off eBay, I won’t care. It won’t matter. But it kind of does at the moment.
It just kind of sucks.
Fairy Lights and Fear 