Three years ago today I was alone in a hotel room in another state, away on a work trip, when I got the phone call that would forever change my life.
Only then did I fully acknowledge all of the feelings of illness and other signs I’d had. And finally allow myself to pee on the stick. What an incredible gift being a mumma is.
In the past week or so I have had so many conversations with friends dear, friends near, friends far, and one person I don’t know very well at all … all about the bumpy road to becoming a mumma.
So, while today I want to acknowledge what an amazing thing being a mumma is, and finally hearing those words you’ve been dreaming of, I also wanted to acknowledge these things.
Miscarriages are horrific. Those pregnancies never leave your head or your heart. Most girls I know can rationalise why they happened, and accept that Mother Nature knows a thing or two. But even if you are the most scientific of girls, a miscarriage can weigh heavy on your heart.
Even a day-late period when you’re trying for a baby can break your heart.
Fertility drugs are hard work. And I don’t mean just the injecting yourself part. They make you a little crazy. Or a little more crazy. So if you know someone who is going through it, be kind to them. They are probably beating themselves up on the inside. Pick them a flower, leave a chocolate on their doorstep. Empathy, not sympathy, and the smallest of kindnesses can make the world of difference.
The world sometimes feels like you’re walking around in a 3D movie when you’re trying to conceive. The only things that jump out at you are pregnant bellies, nursing mothers, prams and Johnson’s baby products ads.
So, if you’re a mumma {even if you’re having a bad day today}, please spare a thought and send a cuddle {real or virtual} to all of your friends who are desperately wanting to, but have so far not quite had their dream come true.
I wish, like my friends, all of those girls had someone they felt safe talking to about this gamut of emotions. If you’re reading this, and you don’t feel like you have someone to talk to, know that the person writing {me!} has picked a flower and left it - along with a little chocolate - on your doorstep.
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