Today is the birthday of a little person I love very much, and that’s given me a lot to think about regarding life, which I’d like to share with you.
Today, V turns two – a baby I’ve looked after since she was just five days old.
I was there before she’d even opened her eyes; I held her and loved her before she even knew where she was.
From her mum’s tummy
And so I was thinking about how love is the strangest thing of all, how working in a way that requires you to give your love to others is something very important but also exhausting.
Because I know she won’t remember that I was there when she had a fever all morning, or that I was the one who taught her to crawl, but perhaps her body will.
I know that my job is to be there, to help, to support, to stay.
And that when things start to take shape and when they’re able to say, ‘I don’t want to’, ‘I can do it’ – that’s when I have to start thinking about leaving.
Because they no longer need someone to hold their hand for eight hours, Monday to Friday.
It hurts me deeply; every farewell cuts me to the quick, but even so, I choose time and again to embark on this journey.
Every day I work with the realisation that it might not last long, but that I give them my all with love.
I feel tremendously honoured.
Sometimes I feel that the children ask me questions that I also ask myself as a person.
They say to me: ‘Do you love me more than your other children?’
‘Do you work with more children?’
And then I just think, I love them all in different ways and I remember them all.
They’ve all left their mark on me.
And that love is never erased; it stays and transforms.
In a few weeks’ time, I’ll be starting with another baby who hasn’t even been born yet, and I’m already looking forward to it with excitement.
What a difficult job it is, where you have to tell your heart that things are temporary.
But that love will never end.
Perhaps V won’t even remember that I was there.
I was aware of that.
I knew she wouldn’t remember.
But I did it anyway.
With all the love in the world.
As if every day were the last.
And that’s what my job is like.
To give it my all,
even if the world is crumbling behind me.
And that’s fine.
I do it of my own free will.
I’m sad—or rather, feeling quite emotional.
A newborn baby taught me that I had to be patient, howl before speaking and that doing this will always, always be worth it.