To my second child print

To my second child print

Regular price £7.00 Sale

• • S P E C I A L   K I N D   O F   T H I N G • •

A beautifully worded print, which can be customised with your choice of wording. 

PLEASE LEAVE A NOTE AT CHECKOUT WITH THE FOLLOWING INFO: - (your order will not be processed without it)

* The print wording (shown below) can be personalised/changed to your own words, please read through and let us know all/any parts you would like changed.

* If you would like the first and last line to be a colour other than pink, please let us know your colour choice.

• •

Designed and printed in the UK using our luxurious textured cardstock. Packaged in clear cellophane sleeve and a hard-backed envelope.

First class delivery via Royal Mail.




To my Second Child
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 sister, everything was new, I was focused on her every move.
Each tiny smile was photographed, I changed my ringtone to her 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 sister over there.
I cannot watch your every move. Or, when you cry out, jump to soothe.
I don’t panic everytime you sneeze and dash you off to A&E.
Your rattles and teds are hand-me-downs and some toys may have lost their sound.
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 does’nt mean I love you less; this time the feelings more complex.
I’m pleased to see you learn and grow, but it also pulls my heartstrings so.
I was so excited the first time round, this time I want to slow things down.
Your ‘first s’ will all be ‘lasts’ for me, last crawl and last ride on 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.