Sweet Honesty

Mum gave me many gifts. She gave me the freedom to explore and be creative as a kid, she taught me how to sing and how to read and write. She read me bedtime stories from books and from her own imagination. I have fond memories of mum beside my bed, me, captivated as she narrated one of her fanciful made up stories. I can still feel her warmth, hear her soft, soothing voice and smell on her skin, the subtle fragrance of sweet honesty - her favorite perfume.

Mum was a natural - maternal, nurturing and playful. With dad being the breadwinner, she was largely responsible for the care of the children - all six of them. I was number four - somewhere in the middle - and I’m grateful to have been raised by an attentive, present mother. I grew up feeling safe, secure and loved.

I didn’t fully appreciate the magnitude of mum’s devotion until I became a mother myself. At twenty three I welcomed a beautiful daughter into the world. Mum had been by my side throughout the pregnancy. She offered an empathetic ear as I complained about my morning sickness and fatigue. She delighted along with me as I marvelled at my growing tummy and the first baby kicks. She provided moral support in the very uncomfortable last trimester and encouragement during my very long labour.

Naturally, once little Emily was born, I turned to mum for more support and guidance. Having been there herself six times, she was well qualified to provide it. Fortunately I lived within walking distance to mum’s, so help was never far away and I took great advantage of this. While my partner was a doting dad, he worked long hours in a physical job. I was also breastfeeding so l was it. However, the reality of caring for a newborn came as a rude shock to me and I accepted any help that mum offered. The sleep deprivation posed the greatest challenge. I was often on the verge of insanity when mum arrived in time to save the day. She was a godsend, particularly after I had spent hours pacing up and down the hallway in the middle of the night with a crying baby. I would hand over the precious little bundle, exhausted and at my wits end and she would take over while I collapsed into bed for a few hours.

The months passed and I slowly adapted to motherhood but I didn’t feel ‘a natural’ - not like the natural mother I considered mum to be. I loved my baby with all of my being but a sense of failure kept creeping in. For a start, Emily’s birth had resulted in a c-section so I didn’t feel that I was able to birth her ‘normally’, like my body had failed from the get go. Then I struggled to breastfeed her and was devastated to have to give her a bottle when I had been so determined to breastfeed. I felt like I was getting it all wrong. I just wasn’t cut out to be a mother and I developed depression. But with mum’s continued support things slowly improved and I was able to experience the joy of watching little Emily grow and reach her milestones. Mum continued to be an invaluable source of advice as we navigated everything from teething to potty training.

When baby Madeleine arrived just before Emily’s second birthday, mum was, once again, by my side, supporting me all the way. And once again, I struggled. The more I struggled, the more I wondered how on earth mum had done it - six times no less. One day I asked her. We were sat in her living room enjoying a rare break while baby Madeleine was napping in her pram and Emily was playing happily on the rug. The conversation turned, as it tended to, to children and parenting. We covered bedtime struggles, Emily’s fussy eating, Madeleine’s terrible twos antics - the usual dilemmas. We laughed about the adorable things that came ‘out of the mouths of babes’ and reflected on recent trials and tribulations. ‘How did you cope?’ I asked my mum. She thought for a moment and then said, ‘not very well at times’. Her response took me by surprise. ‘I didn’t know what I was doing’, she continued, ‘let’s face it, I was only young’. ‘It was a process of trial and error - with lots of error’. I sat there, listening intently, as she proceeded to fill me in on her ‘fails’ as a mother.

The words mum spoke that day stayed with me. Whenever self doubt threatened to creep in or overwhelm me, those words provided comfort. I was doing okay, muddling through, and learning as I went, just as my mother had. Of all the gifts she gave me it is my mother's sweet honesty that I cherish most.