The Teacher & The Healer

By Chloe Counter

Two red lines – I was pregnant again and this time it was planned. This time things were going to be different. This time I would be less anxious. I was right about 2/3 of those.

My firstborn, Van, had an undetected heart condition. I had a seamlessly easy pregnancy and glowed like I'd never glowed before – when I found out Van had problems with his heart, I think every ounce of colour drained out of me. Newborn bliss was clouded by a hole in the heart. His heart was broken and mine was in pieces.

The first week of his life was testing in every single way possible. Ben squeezing milk out of my nipples at 3am so that we could catch it in a syringe to feed Van through his nose, was a highlight. Our first day trip as a family was to London Evelina Children's Hospital. And when we finally got discharged and could go home, I was convinced our dog was going to eat Van. He didn't.

Around the 3 month mark when you start to feel more comfortable in your role as a new parent and you can finally leave the house in under two hours, we were rocked with the news that we should start thinking about Van having open heart surgery. I cried all the way home on the train from London and didn't sleep for the next 6 weeks leading up to his operation.

Fast-track to his 1 year health visitor check up – he had recovered incredibly from surgery and apart from the scar on his chest, you would never had known anything had happened. Although he was doing brilliantly, I couldn't help but feel anxious that Van wasn't ticking off the boxes of what he 'should' be doing.

This feeling of Van not ticking boxes has followed me throughout all 4 years of his life. In the earlier years, I refused to take him to play groups out of fear of meeting competitive mums that would make me feel shit about my child's development. I knew he was incredible, I knew he was amazing and I knew he would do everything other children do eventually, but I just felt too weak to fight his corner. I guess people don't realise that asking questions like “why isn't he walking yet?”, “why isn't he talking yet?” is really quite damaging. It ruined my confidence as a parent and made me think, maybe I'm not teaching him properly?! When actually, Van was teaching me along.

He teaches me to be patient. He teaches me selflessness. He teaches me how to be strong.

Van is my teacher.

So, back to the two red lines. After the initial joy of finding out I was pregnant with Silvie, I started to feel dread. My experience with Van had prepared me in many ways but also had opened my eyes to how things could go wrong. I felt anxious. I had many sleepless nights. I was worried that my body wasn't capable of growing a healthy baby.

I was wrong. When Silvie was born, I felt this immense girl power and like we had done it together. We needed each other. She needed a mum and I needed her to fix me. I was worried about loving a second child as much as I loved my first, but I really shouldn't have wasted my sleep on that one. She was healthy, chubby and wild-haired and I could feel myself starting to heal when she was around me.

Everything has been a lot more straightforward with Silvie. We always say it's like she's been here before. She knows what she wants and she knows how to get it. I started to go to playgroups with her. The shoe was on the other foot this time - by the other foot, I don't mean that I would ask other mums about their child's development (who cares?!) but I did notice that people would comment on how 'forward' Silvie was. Instead of feeling proud, I felt awkward. It made me realise that it didn't matter the pace of my children's development, it was no longer a reflection of my parenting.

I thought that I was already healed from Van's surgery when I started to think about having a second baby. But actually, I only started healing when Silvie was born. She made me love my body again. She convinced me that it wasn't my fault the first time around. She filled me with confidence as a mum.

Silvie is my healer.