Saturday, 13 June 2015

Letter to my Children


I decided to write this while I cried in the shower.  Two of my kids are teenagers and things haven’t been so smooth running lately.  We try and have really open conversations about things to sort them out and often we can, but one of the most heart wrenching things that often gets yelled at me in the midst of an impassioned argument is that I don’t care for, or love them. 
Enjoy those family moments.

Please don’t think I don’t love you...
My heart fused to your existence while I writhed in agony and bore you into the world, straight into our home, we lived through that together.  I met you for the first time and all my dreams about what my kids would be like were immediately exceeded.  I learnt about a new love that day, 

Please don’t think I don’t love you...

I spent days gazing at you and caressing your skin, spent hours awake at night holding your tiny body close and feeding you with my life giving milk.  My life ceased to be important to me once you were born, I knew in an instant I would die for you.  I still would.

 Please don’t think I don’t love you...

I’ve comforted you from your bad dreams, held you close to me in bed when you were too scared to go back to yours.  I’ve run to you and you’ve run to me when you were hurt, there was no-one else then that you wanted to help you, and I’ve held back my tears to be strong for you even when my heart was breaking. 

Please don’t think I don’t love you...

I worried endlessly about whether you were okay at Kindy and then at School.  Were people being nice to you, did you have friends?  Were you sitting all alone at lunchtime?  These things all seemed worse than when they actually happened to me when I was a kid.  What about play dates?  Are those parents trustworthy enough to look after my most prized possession?  Endless thoughts of how you could get hurt whirled through my mind.  They still do.

Please don’t think I don’t love you...

How could I predict when I was having the last time?  How could I know when my last kiss or hug at school was going to happen?  How could I savour the last time I would lie on your bed and hug you till you fell asleep?  How could I know the last time you would run to me crying looking for the comfort only my arms could offer?  How could I know that I would stop being your hero?

Please don’t think I don’t love you...

Now, how will I know when it’s our last family holiday, our last family meal, or when I’m no longer needed at last?  How at the age of 40 have I only just realised that my own Mum loves me this way too?  My heart still beats for you. When you’re sad I grieve, when you’re happy I feel joy, when you’re in danger I feel fear.  My love for you BURNS fiercely inside me.


Please don’t think I don’t love you, I will always love you, more than you can ever imagine.

Me and my Mum- she'll kill me for this photo!