It was time to say goodbye to our pram.
It sounds so simple, doesn’t it? Just another baby item that’s reached the end of its life. But anyone who’s been through it knows it’s never just a pram.
We bought ours almost three years ago from Ickle Bubba when I was around six months pregnant. Money was tight, so we paid for it through Klarna, and I remember the excitement of setting it up in our living room.
It suddenly made everything feel real.
Before then, our baby had been kicks and scan photos. Now we had something tangible that would carry him through the world.
Little did we know just how many adventures that pram would go on. It carried Alexander through sleepy newborn walks, rushed supermarket trips and countless days exploring Dublin.
It travelled with us to Limerick twice, to Kilkenny, and even all the way to Portugal. It saw two different homes and became part of so many ordinary moments that, somehow, became extraordinary memories.
I remember countless times Alex falling asleep in the pram after a long walk and us leaving him in the pram until he woke up. He was so comfy and cosy in there, his first little bed and home all in one.
When we moved from our first family home in Killester, I struggled with that goodbye too. It was the first place Alexander ever knew. The place where we brought him home from the hospital. The place where we learned how to be parents.
Before Killester, we lived in another home for a short while and before that in another home in Drumcondra, where I first found out I was pregnant. Despite all the moves, every home is remembered because of that reason. And saying goodbye to each one was heartbreaking in its own right.
But saying goodbye to the pram? It’s been a big heartbreak that I didn’t think would hurt as much as it does.
Parenthood, I’ve realised, is filled with these quiet goodbyes. We’ve already packed away the baby carriers, the newborn clothes, the tiny babygrows and vests, the baby bath, the tummy time mat and so many other little pieces of his first years.
Saying goodbye to the pram
Each one marked another milestone. Another reminder that time doesn’t slow down, no matter how much you wish it would.
But saying goodbye to the pram hit differently. By the end, it had truly done its job.
One wheel had fallen off, the foam on the handle was torn, the rain cover had become grubby and worn, and it was quite literally falling apart. It had reached the end of the road.
It kept my tiny newborn safe when he was too little to hold his own head up. Later, it became the place where my curious toddler would happily watch the world go by – or attempt to wriggle free every chance he got.
Then, gradually, something changed. He didn’t want the pram anymore. He wanted to walk. Everywhere. He wanted independence. He wanted to run ahead, explore every path and hold our hands instead of sitting strapped in.
So the pram became a portable shopping carrier. Alex would hold our hands and the pram would be used for storage. Little by little, the pram was used less for Alex’s needs and used more for our needs.
People often think Alexander is older than two and a half because he’s such a tall toddler. He simply doesn’t fit the pram anymore. Does that make saying goodbye any easier? Not even a little.
Last night, we took it to be disposed of. Seeing it sitting there, broken and alone after everything we’d been through together, completely caught me off guard.
I cried far more than I ever expected to. Once the tears started, they just kept coming. Even my husband had watery eyes.
I think it wasn’t really about the pram. It was about what it represented. It carried our baby through the earliest chapter of his life, and somehow, without us noticing, that chapter quietly came to an end.
We’re lucky enough to have another pram now that my mam has kindly lent us, but I know there’ll come a day when we won’t need one at all.
And if saying goodbye to this one has taught me anything, it’s that I know that day will be emotional too. That’s the bittersweet reality of parenting.
Every milestone is something you’ve wished for. You long to hear their first words, watch their first steps and see them grow into independent little people.
But every new beginning quietly closes the door on something you’ll never get back. I suppose that’s what growing up is. Not just for our children, but for us as parents too.
And while my heart might not be ready for every goodbye, I’m learning that they’re simply another way of measuring just how lucky we’ve been to experience all of the hellos.
