The Second Time

To My Second Child

by Emma Robinson

You’re not my first; that much is true.

I loved another before loving you.

I’m a different mother this time around.

More calm and confident I’ve found.

With your brother, everything was new.

I was focused on his every move.

Each tiny smile was photographed.

I changed my ringtone to his laugh. 

Since you came, there’s a new dimension.

Two children now want my attention.

And sometimes you’re left in your chair,

Whilst I play with your brother over there.

 I cannot watch your every move.

Or, when you cry out, jump to soothe.

I don’t panic every time you sneeze,

And dash you off to A & E.

Your rattles and teds are hand-me-downs,

(And some toys may have lost their sounds.)

There’s less concern if your blanket’s scratchy,

And your baby book is a little patchy. 

I know what the next months have in store.

And each phase you reach, I’ve seen before.

This doesn’t mean I love you less.

This time the feeling’s more complex. 

I’m pleased to see you learn and grow,

But it also pulls my heartstrings so.

I was so excited first time ‘round.

This time I want to slow things down. 

Your ‘firsts’ will all be ‘lasts’ for me.

Last crawl and last to ride my knee.

Last nappy, breastfeed, spoon of mush.

Last rock-to-sleep, last cry to hush.

 You were not my firstborn this is true,

But the last child I will have is you.

You’re the last lullaby I’ll ever sing.

And ‘lasts’ are a special kind of thing.

*poem by Emma Robinson