I wouldn’t have believed it if I’d been told this would be your first birthday without me, not anywhere near to hold or kiss you. Only a mother who loves hers would understand the piercing pain in my heart. Your birthdays aren’t just a celebration of the blessing of life and how fast you’re growing; we celebrate you being the chosen one, the one who chose me and birthed a mum. The day you were born; I died and was reborn, the old me gone and the new me called mummy forever and a day. Life altering in every which way.
You taking precedence over everything I once thought I knew the second they pulled you out from my stomach. Thinking I was going the right way; but quickly diverted to my greatest blessing and proudest achievement; you.
For months, my mind was fixated on the idea there was something wrong with me. Never before have I stared at myself in the mirror feeling so broken, wishing I could shred to pieces every inch of my body that was not deemed perfect or desirable anymore.
“No one will want you”, I whispered to myself as I hid buried in my towel looking for the baggiest bottoms and jumper I owned. This was the very first time it dawned on me what had become very apparent. He replaced me with somebody he was able to put on a pedestal for the world to see, her impeccable silhouette made her the perfect trophy to display and walk proudly with his head in the clouds. I was never blind to the changes my body endured after pregnancy and birth and like many I’m sure, I would often get lost in thought about it all. But, for the first time ever I was made to feel like a woman with no longer any desired value, place or purpose in this man’s world.
On a day like today exactly four years ago, I was preparing to meet you in person for the very first time. Since then, I’ve watched every milestone, witnessed you becoming a big brother twice and very soon I will be walking you into your first day at school. I had to hit pause and reflect on the fact that I have been deep in the trenches of motherhood for the last four years. Four long, stressful, exhausting yet liberating years of my life. I had you and your brothers in a short space of time. Pregnancy, breastfeeding, postpartum depression, identity crisis, repeat, repeat, repeat. It has been an oxymoron of a journey as it has been slow and fast all at the same time. So much learning and growing, many moments of trial and error and figuring it out as I go along. Although there have been days where I wished for you to do things on your own – it is a bittersweet heartache watching you grow.
I was twenty-one when I fell pregnant with Myla, a person with much healing and learning yet to do but so determined to give her the best of me. From the second I held Myla in my arms, and watched her find comfort as she curled up on my chest with her head tucked beneath my chin; that love and connection was instant. And just like that the meaning of your essence unfolds before your eyes – marking the mission of a lifetime and beyond: to love, nurture and protect.
From the moment I lay eyes on the both of you it was an instant love that I cannot explain. Twin boys, I couldn’t have even imagined being blessed with such a gift.
However, from the day I met you, even though my love for you got stronger, I started to lose love for myself. Every inch of my body wanted to only love you two (and your dad of course) and I had none left for myself. For the first couple of months I didn’t notice, we were all in our little bubble with daddy but after some time the haze started to disappear and when I looked at myself I didn’t know the woman who was staring back at me.
First of all, thank you for choosing me to be your mummy. You were that blessing in disguise that I needed in my life.
What do I mean? Well mi gordo, I felt I needed to change my way of thinking, “I need to travel more, I need to change my social life”, but God had other plans and knew you were the addition that I needed.
‘Lost my way whilst desperately trying to hold onto my vision, blinded by love so pure or lust so sweet – I’ll let the stars decide that one for me.’
Motherhood and life caught up with me, juggling too much meant at some point I’d lose my balance.
I spent most nights last year praying to God asking him to save Love for another chapter. All I needed was more wisdom and strength to continue my most important job on this earth; being a nurturing mother, a provider and creator of the future I desire for me and little madam. But life can surprise you with unexpected sprinkles of magic.
It’s something I could never have prepared for, a family dynamic I never imagined would be mine. A constant contrast between love and hate – forever searching for the middle ground. I’ve found it to be one of the hardest things I’ve experienced to date. I know some people who co-parent are best-friends say it wasn’t without it’s battles, it’s a struggle, it’s a process and an ongoing challenge. Becoming best friends from a state thought of as irreparable is undoubtedly a process, a process I’m regularly questioning the reality of.