A thought has been swimming around in my mind for a while and it’s concerned with a certain type of grief that I’m sure many parents/anyone who cares for a child will relate to. That is, the grief of missing the person your child was at a certain age with the knowledge that that person is gone and can never be seen again.

Let me elaborate. Through rose tinted glasses, all 3 of my children were the cutest and most lovable babies and toddlers you have ever seen. Did they sleep? No of course not. But could they melt your sleep deprived heart with their gorgeousness? Most definitely.

C from about 18-24 months was my most favourite human on the planet. Not that I love and adore him any less now, or at any other stage, but I remember this stage of him being so inquisitive, hilarious and freaking cute. He was also an only child at this point so we got to enjoy him fully. We were living in Bristol and it was the first lockdown (so actually pretty lovely) and we were a little unit of 3 going on our daily walks, trying out fun crafts and enjoying the sunshine.  C’s “quirks” (which in hindsight were autistic traits) made him the most unique, lovable and enjoyable child.

C was our first baby so of course everything he did was the cutest thing ever, but I remember there being a lot of stress up until he was about a year as we, like all first time parents, had no idea what we were doing. Once that stress eased off slightly, apart from the whole not sleeping more than 2 hours at a time at night, C was a wonderful, happy, mostly chill toddler.

The first year of the twins’ life is basically a blur in my memory, as you can imagine life with 3 under 3 being! Sleep at night was very limited as they tag teamed being awake, and I felt like I was either feeding, changing nappies or trying to get them to nap in a loop for months on end. But I remember feeling at the time and especially now as I look at photos, they were stinking cute babies! I’ve always dreamed of having girls and being blessed with two at the same time was incredible.

There are benefits to them being older, don’t get me wrong. They can now verbalise what they need instead of just screaming (though sometimes they still opt for just screaming) and I can leave them to their own devices for longer than 30 seconds at a time. I do miss the naps, though have to remind myself they rarely napped at the same time or for the same amount of time!

And who’s to say whether I’ve seen my favourite stage yet?? What are the twins going to be like as 8 year olds? And where will C’s inquisitive mind take him as a teenager? What will the adults they become be like? And how much will I look back at the stage they are now with rose tinted glasses, forgetting how challenging I find it as we’re in it?

It is a bittersweet privilege to watch our children grow up, a privilege not granted to the parents of the children who were killed in Rafah, children as young as my babies pictured here. Whilst I miss them at these ages, I can see them right now and I will, God-willing, get to witness them travel through all the future stages life will take them to. I am grateful for that especially now.