This is one of those posts that is all about family and it’s where my blog turns personal as a legacy that I hope to pass down. It’s a long one and it will hold no interest for some – if that’s you, I assure you that normal service will be resumed next week. Others though will understand how the milestones that we reach don’t always point ahead, sometimes they cause you to look back along the path that’s led you here. As my lastborn graduates our family is turning another corner and I’ve found myself pulsing with nostalgia. I think it’s a powerful point for any mother because you – and only you – have total insight into the adult they’ve become.
It’s edifying understanding another human being so holistically, knowing all of the parts and influences that have made them into the person they’ve become. In the chaos of family life the lastborn often doesn’t get the focus they deserve so today is all about the youngest of my boys – from his very first breath to the young man he is now. And I should add that if he reads this he’ll wince because he isn’t one to blow his own trumpet but I’m his mum and this is my one chance to bring out the full brass band!
My lastborn. To you from me.
There were ten days in the torpid heatwave of summer 2003 when I felt as if you were never going to leave my body and I’ve often wondered if that’s because it knew it was the last time that it would perform the magnificent task of creating another human being. Even though I was uncomfortably swollen with polyhydramnios I’d always loved being pregnant, those 27 months were the ones when I felt at my most serene and fulfilled.
Back in 2003 your due date of 4th August came and went and every morning after that your dad’s first words on opening his eyes were, “we’re still here then?” Time took on a new dimension as I drifted in the liminality of a baby waiting to be born. Then, at last, my waters broke (rather alarmingly in a Surbiton swimming pool)… but still you didn’t come… and so I was booked in for an induction a few days later.
As we settled into the pre-labour ward the night before the procedure I started to feel things moving but the maternity unit was full and I couldn’t get anyone to take me seriously. When a hot, cross midwife finally agreed to take a look we saw her eyes widen because you were already making your way into the world. And so at last you came, fast and furious which is just like you – there was no time for pain relief which I particularly rued when the midwife assessed the size of your crown and instantly pressed the big red alarm button. She told us that you looked so big that she needed extra assistance to avoid your shoulders being broken and she insisted I stopped pushing. I tried but my body took over and out you came – thankfully ok and giving us a lifetime of family jokes about the size of your head. Here you are an hour later, still with the dent in your skull that shows you I did my best to stop.
You were the sweetest of babies, the easiest of my three, you slotted straight into our family life. You slept well…
… you ate well…
…you adored your brothers…
… and joined in with their fun – although it doesn’t exactly look as if I was thriving here! I was managing a multi-million pound budget for Marks and Spencer at the time, convinced I could juggle everything but eventually I worked out that I simply wasn’t doing anything well. I soon concluded that my people were more important than my profile. You often joke about GenX attitudes but we were brought up to believe we could and should have it all. Somewhere in the ‘greed is good’ mindset of the 1980s people lost sight of just how much it takes to bring up rounded human beings, I’m glad that there’s more understanding of the value of parenting in your generation. Eighteen months after you completed our family I made the choice to stop chasing a high-flying career and I’ve never regretted it.
As you grew, so did your personality… you had it in spades!
You were a child who had the quiet confidence that comes with knowing that they’re loved absolutely …
… and you were happy to be individually you – you’ve never been one to conform for the sake of it.
You couldn’t wait to go to school. From the day you saw your brother starting you were always looking over his shoulder – determined to learn to read as soon as he did, always wanting to forge ahead.
Your sharp mental acuity was often a thorn in your brothers’ sides. You quickly learned how to wind them up and then assume the most guileless of expressions for us when they retaliated. You were (and they’d say often still are) the epitome of the annoying little brother – their faces in this photo say it all! Just this week you admitted with a wry smile that you know how to get under the skin of each one of us… and you often do, just to enjoy watching it play out.
There’s a quote attributed to Aristotle that says ‘give me a child until he is seven and I will give you the man.’
Here you are at seven already the man you are now – mischievous, singular, exuberant, kindhearted with an endlessly enquiring mind.
You and your brother both loved stories, he liked acting them out whereas you preferred reading them.
A passion for words and books is one of the many things you and I share – Tolkien was always your favourite and you thought every day should be World Book Day at school (thank goodness it wasn’t!).
Children who are born and raised in our village are known as Sandsgrown’uns and although technically you don’t qualify for the title because you were born in Kingston upon Thames, no child belongs here more than you. You have a passion for the shore, the trees and the mountains, I don’t know anybody who loves them more. It was always easy to please you with an afternoon spent boghopping.
Do you remember the summer mornings when I used to pop my head around your door at sunrise and whisper that I was going for a walk? You’d be up and out in seconds, it was a thing that only you and I shared and when I took this photo here I knew it would be the last time because it was your final day at primary school. After this you’d be catching the bus into town and there wouldn’t be time for a walk with your mum… and Gary… we’ll never forget Gary, our first family dog.
I was supporting you in your achievements in 2014 and you were my biggest supporter in return. When I decided to start writing this blog, you were the one who encouraged me endlessly and you took all of my photos for the first two years, patiently waiting for me to put an outfit together and doing your best to make me smile for the camera which you knew I didn’t find easy. Here’s an example of your first work – we hadn’t quite figured out the importance of backgrounds then had we? There was a building site behind us.
Before we knew it, it was your first day at grammar school…
…where you discovered rugby, just like your big brother…
… whilst also working towards your black belt in karate which you soon got by training with your focused determination to catch up with your dad.
Mothers have unique relationships with each one of their children, trying hard to encourage their particular personalities and strengths. We hold all of our children tight but the youngest is close in a special way… because we know that when that last one goes, our mothering days are over.
Slowly, slowly I watched you spool away… here’s an extract from a blog post in April 2017 when I knew that you were starting to feel your wings…
You were on the cusp of great change. With all three of you there’s been a seminal photo that’s taken my breath away as I’ve realised that you’ve crossed the bridge from boy to manhood… and this one is yours.
There were times when it wasn’t easy for us simply because in so many ways you and I are so alike. We have the same fascination for words, for languages, for books and the same minds that scour for the right answers… and we don’t always reach the same conclusions. These days it often brings us together but there were times when I think you wished we were less alike…
… this was clearly one of those days!
Always a natural athlete, from this point you just grew and grew until you stood taller than all of us. Your social life expanded, even if your dad constantly did his best to ruin your cool photo opportunities!
But then came lockdown and overnight life went online. Once again it was both a blessing and a curse that your mum had a degree in some of your A Level subjects…
… and your dad had a degree in the others! You were determined to work with as little input from us as possible though and you blew us away with your A Level art which won awards and money too as school bought some of your pieces for permanent display.
Goodness knows it wasn’t easy for anybody who was in the education system over the lockdown years and it was extra tense when every Sixth Former in the UK was trying to access their A Level results online at the same time. You had to wait ages to get through…
… but as always, you’d aced it!
And wasn’t that summer a wonderful one? With exam success and lockdown over you were able to nurture the romance that was just beginning when Covid hit. This beautiful girl with her million dollar smile burst into all of our lives and you loved her instantly with all of your heart.
Where once your tiny body had cleaved to mine, now it leaned towards hers. It was another stage of letting my little one go, I’m so glad it was to someone special.
There were still milestones to achieve – with no university open days during lockdown you’d had to put your finger in the air when it came to choosing a university. I think Leeds came first simply because you knew it had a good climbing wall!
And while you’ve been there you’ve given it your all – particularly the infamous Otley runs – the crawl of 18 pubs in fancy dress…
… which you even invited us to join you on!
How you survived your year abroad working in a tiny school on a remote Spanish mountainside I’ll never know. You spent so much time alone, roaming the hills at weekends with the occasional foray into Benidorm to let your hair down with other students. Your tenacity astounded me, I could never have done it.
How lucky that you were already a country boy, always happy climbing some ridiculous hill (that’s something you absolutely don’t get from your dad or me!).
I’m so grateful to you for keeping us a part of everything you’ve done since you left home.
And that brings us up to now – with your graduation this week and your 22nd birthday ahead – what a celebration of culminations it’s been.
I can’t begin to say how proud of you we all are.
As always it was impossible to get a sensible picture of the three of you together but my heart bursts when I see the close relationship you have. As your dad said to me while we were watching you, you’re like three completely different books and we’re forever gripped by the ongoing story of each one of you.
And here you are with your beautiful girl, both of you graduating this summer with First Class Honours in French and Spanish. Life hasn’t been easy recently, I think I can say now that it’s her wonderful brother that everyone has been grieving.
Life has given her the very hardest of challenges but she’s surrounded by love from every angle and she will get through. It’s so good to see the occasional return of that megawatt smile. You have the world at your feet but you’ve both decided to come home for a year, she will do a Masters and you a PGCE. We’ll enjoy having the two of you back.
Here she is at her graduation in Durham a couple of weeks ago – they have lovely (faux) fur trimmed gowns.
Sometimes it feels as if our house has a revolving front door, your brother is leaving just as you return. I am of course delighted that my active mothering has another year of one in the nest… I’ll try to remember that you’re all grown up and not be too ‘active’ on the mothering front!
And you know that despite his bluster, your dad loves having you around too.
You more than anybody will understand that I have to interrupt my celebrations of you to talk about what I decided to wear. Reader – you know how much I like harmony and so I’ve always aimed to tone with my boys’ university hoods. The dark green of Leeds was a challenge for somebody who loves bright colours as much as I do but when I spotted this dress just before Christmas, I knew it was the one. And taking a leaf out of the Geordies’ books I didn’t let a jacket spoil the outline so I took a shawl instead and an old Mulberry clutch bag so that there were no straps to interfere with the flow. They’re the occasion dressing rules that I made for myself years ago and they continue to work for me.
Dress (now in the sale, AW24); Hope Shawl AW16; M&S shoes AW18
Back to you my boy – we spent the afternoon celebrating fully as per your wishes with a late bottomless brunch in your favourite student bar…
… followed by edited highlights from your beloved Otley Run itinerary with high jinx galore…
… it was so precious having you all together…
… and picking up one of your cousins along the way…
… as well as your friends and their parents who were celebrating too.
It was a day when our joy flowed over and there were moments for reflection too… like this one when your dad said to me, “we’ve done it, we’ve launched them all – it’s our time now.”
And so it is… but know that we’re always right here… whenever any of you need us.
Loving and raising you all has been the greatest joy of my life. It may not be the most feminist thing to say but you – and the happy family that I’ve nurtured – are my biggest achievements.
My last bit of advice for you remains the same as always – as you go forward into your life know that it’s not what you are or what you have that matters, it’s who you are. I know that the values you stand by make you a decent human being – may you go on to touch the lives of many people in the best of ways.
You can tell that I’m feeling utterly sentimental and so it’s fitting that I end with this, a line from one of our favourite old bedtime stories. You will always be my lastborn child and so regardless of how tall you are… or how far you go… or whatever happens in the future… the words we used to read when you were tiny will always apply…
“I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always.
As long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.”
