Mum... I get it now

Those years of slamming doors, telling you I ‘hated’ you and that I wanted to leave home. Informing you that you were the ‘worst mum ever’ and that you ‘didn’t care about my feelings’. It makes me want to cringe now.

Because now, as a mummy myself, I can’t imagine what I’d do without you.

I heard people saying in the past how much I would need my mum in the future, and to be honest I just ignored them. But nothing could have prepared me for what it would like to become a mum myself, apart from of course, my own mum. My constant rock throughout this crazy journey we call motherhood.

In my first pregnancy she was always there, reassuring me (with what she could remember) what was normal and what wasn’t. She came with me to the extra growth scans when Jo couldn’t get away from work and helped me get all the washing ready for baby’s arrival. Doing everything she felt a grandma should be doing.

The day Luna arrived she was at our house decorating, adding pom poms and ribbons to our front door and making sure we were stocked with the necessities before our world was about to change completely. She even washed and re-made our bed for us, so it was fresh for our arrival home. (I’ll have to remind her of this for this time round!) The next day, she had an abundance of pink outfits, washed, ironed and hanging on her front door ready to deliver to us the minute we were up and ready for visitors.  

I remember Luna was twelve days old the day the baby blues struck me like a tonne of bricks. It was one of Daddy’s friends’ stag nights, and I sent him out for a couple of hours because I wanted him to have some time on his own. If you’ve read my previous blog on Luna having a milk intolerance, you’ll understand why…

Off he went and only half an hour or so later, Luna had scratched her face after pulling off her mitt. I mean it was a tiny mark, miniscule even but I felt like the worst mother on earth for allowing her to cause such damage to her beautiful face. I text my mum asking if she was free. At that time she was a car journey away from me rather than the walk she is now, and I remember her reply, “up you come”.

“No I need you.” Was my reply, and before I knew it, she was walking in my front door.

Even throughout our CMPA journey, she was always on hand when I needed her, we had some long nights, and days even, when I felt like I wanted to give up, but there she was, ready to take over and let me just sit without a baby in my arms for longer than five minutes.

There has never been a day when I’ve heard her tell me 'no' to any of my requests. Regardless of how big or small they are. I still manage to pan off some stain removal tasks as ‘gold jobs’ simply because I don’t have the patience to attempt them but still, she accepts them with only slight sarcasm.

If I have work commitments or an appointment which clashes with one of her plans, and I need someone to watch Luna, the response is always, “leave it with me”. The dedication has shifted now to not only putting her children first, but her grandchildren first too.

She has put me first, along with my siblings, every single time.

Looking back at the years we put her through - my sister, brother and I - she’s probably had more than enough worry to handle. We’ve each got our flaws and I’m sure if we could take a look back at some of the worry and stress we caused her over the years, we’d turn back time. 

As a mum myself now, I hope that I have the same morals as she does, to put my children first, every single time. I want to be the annoying mum who asks for kisses at the school drop-offs, the one who cheers too loudly at concerts, and the one waiting outside the pub when I have to collect them after one too many.

My mum is always telling me how quickly these years pass, and to treasure the moments before they no longer ‘need’ or ‘want’ me. But here I am again needing my mum more than ever. It's as if I've done a full circle to becoming her toddler again, only an older sometimes wiser one.

Yes there was a blip in the middle where I thought I knew everything, which I’m sure my children will go through too (send help), but I can’t wait until the day where they can’t pass my door without stopping in. I hope they come back to me just like I’ve come back to her all these years later…

So Mum, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for the worry and probably upset I caused over the years with the way I spoke to you, or slammed the car door because you made me late to meet my friends.

I'm sorry for thinking you were invading my privacy and asking too many questions, when really you just wanted to know I was OK.

I’m sorry that I questioned how much you cared about me, when really you were doing your best to keep me safe and guide me in the right direction.

I’m sorry that I probably drank too much on too many occasions you didn't know about, and lied about my whereabouts. (I’m dreading being on the receiving end of this.)

And more than anything else, I’m sorry that your mum didn’t show up for you. Which inevitably caused you to question yourself and your parenting over the years. Please don’t ever think you could have done any better at being my mum. You are and continue to be an amazing mum, grandma and best friend. And I hope that I show up for my children, as well as you have done for yours.

www.kingshillstudios.co.uk

Special thanks to Susan at Kingshill Studios, for creating this precious portrait of the three of us to cherish for many years to come.