Well, that went to sh*t..


Happy belated Mother’s Day!

I also celebrated (although I’m using that term very loosely) my birthday over the weekend too. As you can expect nothing went to plan and all in all it was a really emotional day for me. I saw the day in flooded with tears as it started to sink in that this was the first Birthday that my Nan wouldn’t be here for. She was a huge part of my life growing up, the head of our family, but sadly she passed away last August when her cancers got the better of her and instead of taking the time to mourn and process it I threw myself into parenting and used it as a distraction for my pain. Plus I had to be strong for my Dad. It would be an understatement to call what I was feeling devastated and I couldn’t even begin to imagine how broken he was. Aside from the day of her funeral he never saw me cry. I couldn’t in front of him.

I felt like how dare I sit there and feel sorry for myself like a selfish daughter when my Dad had just lost his Mum?

The reminiscing is what got to me. In her younger years my nan was THE BEST baker! Her kitchen was always filled with perfectly decorated cakes (for who? I haven’t got a clue but her kitchen was always filled with them). The icing was immaculate; I daren’t touch - they were just so beautiful and I always felt so special when she’d sneak me some icing from the piping tubes. I remember the time we all had a right laugh when she’d decorated a birthday cake she had made for me last minute and didn’t notice she’d misspelled ‘happy’. Or the party platter she’d lay out that was more than likely going to be served burnt because it’d been left in the oven for too long. Or having her sing ‘happy birthday’ at the top of her lungs in her church singing voice. But now she wasn’t here and it was finally sinking in that she’s never going to be here for any more milestones to come. 
I faked a smile throughout the morning and was more than excited about the prospect of going out with my friends to take my mind away from my woes. And mothering.. I needed a break from that too. My mum once told me that when you become a mother you tend to lose your identity; you become (insert name here)’s mum. Your life revolves around them. And that’s how my life has become; not in a bad way, but it’d just be nice to only have to worry about wiping my own bum and feeding myself for the evening. As you can expect I was upset when I found out my plans for the evening were in tatters. On top of that I had an argument with my dad then my son started to play up (as toddlers do) and I suddenly I couldn’t wait for the day to be over.

All I wanted to do was dive into my duvet, sob and forget the disaster that was my birthday *queue the world’s smallest violin*. 

On top of the day’s events my baby daddy was due to come over to see our son for the day. Truth be told I was dreading it; he has a track record of ruining my birthday some way or another. Plus I really wanted to be alone at this point but he was adamant about turning my day around. Contrary to popular belief we’re not always at each other’s throats and, putting his sometimes questionable parenting methods aside, we actually get on really well. He was really supportive and kept me smiling, which was really what I needed. Admittedly, it’s nice that there’s still that underlying friendship there which makes co-parenting a lot easier. Of course we have our boundaries though. Dare I say it, he actually made my day.. 
My advice to anyone going through any kind of trauma or loss, both physical and emotional, is to not supress it; it’ll only catch up with you sooner or later (I learned that the hard way).. Often facing trauma head on is easier said than done and people keep telling me it gets easier but at the moment I don’t think it does. I think, like many other situations, we just start to adjust to our new ‘normal’ as best we can. The key is doing it in your own time and your own way. For me focusing on the positives gets me through it. The way I like to see it is my Nan had a very full life (after all she was 80 when she passed). She raised six children, who went on to raise their own children, who went on to raise even more children. Plus (although I’ve never been a big believer like she was) if there is a heaven she would have been welcomed in with open arms; baking cakes, sipping hot tea with granddad and belting out church songs. 


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