On 28th January 2012 my world changed forever. I lost my first home, my comfort and my best friend. I was 22 when my mum died. We cared for her at home, (which is something I still struggle to talk about), until she took her very last breath.
She was finally at peace. And my heart was broken. I would
stumble every day trying to fix together the pieces.
The pain of those two weeks caring for her haunts me everyday, I
watched her slowly slip away and there was nothing I could do
about it.
She fought ovarian cancer, bravely, for 5 years. We grew stronger
throughout this battle. I no longer looked at her as just my mum but
my best friend.
She was a proud, strong and
determined woman.
A mother to myself and my two
siblings, a wife, a sister and a
friend to many.
It's only now as I
have become a mum I will
always wonder how she kept it all
together. She was always so
organised, her hair and make up
done every day. I could watch
her for hours getting ready at
her dressing table. And
whenever I smell Coco Chanel it stops me in my tracks. That smell
for me is my home.
After the funeral I went straight back to work. I thought if I could just
keep busy my mind would block out the pain. I wanted to feel
nothing but this came at a price.
Six months later I experienced my first anxiety attack. Every limb in
my body was screaming out in pain and I honestly thought I was
going to die. I ran outside my house and lay on the grass. Numb.
My throat burning. Struggling to breathe.
And all I wanted was my mum.
I made a lot of mistakes and I pushed people away. I was hurting
and lost.
It would take a year of therapy, hospital visits and taking different
medications to start rebuilding my life.
I have chronic anxiety, which is something that I’ve learnt to live with over the years. I’ve found it's best not to fight it but to
learn what my triggers are. Sometimes I just can’t explain what is
going on in my head, so I’m silent.
I met my husband in January 2014.
We started talking on social media – I believe his opening line was
‘you look like an onion.’ And obviously you know you’ve found
someone pretty special when you get that kind of compliment…
His witty charm must have worked as we got married on March 7th
2015 and I moved to the other side of the country to live at his base.
Before my mum died I was very career focused, I have a degree in
criminology and I was determined that I’d be a police officer.
But that all changed. I was no longer driven by a career or money.
I knew all I wanted was a family.
After a year of trying for a baby we knew something wasn’t right.
We both had tests and we received a phone call asking to come
and discuss the findings.
‘You will never be able to have children naturally’ - a sentence I never thought I would hear.
My broken heart that had been glued back together was once again
starting to crack. Once again I was lost. Stumbling around in this
infertile world, longing to be a mum and longing to be with my mum.
Every Facebook pregnancy announcement crippled me and left me
sobbing on the cold bathroom floor. I grew tired of people asking us
questions.
‘When are you two going to have kids?’
‘You’re getting on a bit now, don’t you want a baby?’
I fell deeper and deeper into isolation and once again in a very dark
place.
After many invasive and uncomfortable tests we were told that we
would never be able to conceive naturally. To be told that there may
be a chance that we would not be able to have biological children of
our own destroyed us. I felt like I was grieving all over again. I was
grieving for a child that may never come.
After 3 years of trying, it took it's toll on our marriage, but as we were
starting to get answers it brought us closer together.
I cried, I cried a lot. Then I cried some more. But then I decided
enough
of the ugly crying.
What would mum do?
