Without My Mum

I’m broken. Literally...

5 August 2008

I’m positive that if my boys didn’t rely on me, I would completely lose it. I am barely hanging on. I just don’t know what to do with myself, with my sadness. I don’t want to do anything. It is just so hard to get out of bed and pretend as though I care about anything, but I have to. I’m so deeply and morbidly sad. I have never felt so afraid to be me in all of my life. I wish that I could just switch the hurt off, if only for a minute. I need a little break. If only I could just hide somewhere—away from my boys—and cry for days and days...

Nobody could fix it for me. Nobody but me could take the steps to heal what literally felt like a damaged heart. It was unbearable. In the days following Mum’s passing, I went into flight mode—running on adrenaline. The reality of my loss had thankfully become camouflaged by the list of duties that I had to attend to. I felt as though I was in control of all that had to be done. As long as I was kept busy, I managed.

My boys were my strength. They knew their Nanny had died, but they were so amazing. They allowed me to come and go with minimal fuss, they helped around the house, they smothered me in hugs and kisses and they behaved beautifully. They were taking very good care of me—something I desperately needed after spending so long taking care of Mum. She would have been so proud of them. My husband kept me sane. He went with the flow of tears, anger, adrenaline and disbelief. I was in a constant shift of emotion that he handled so well. This kind of emptiness was something I had never felt before. I wasn’t quite sure what to do, so I set my sights on making sure that Mum’s funeral was perfect. That, at least, was something that I could control.

Days blurred into each other. I dragged myself out of bed in the morning, grateful that I had to get the boys up and off to school and their activities. These routines forced me to face the day. I had no energy though—no interest even in showering or brushing my teeth. I barely ate, as I was constantly nauseous. Instead, I got through the days by drinking far too much coffee and smoking way too many cigarettes.

For a while, I stayed away from people who I knew. I could not deal with any more sympathy. I knew that everyone meant well, but I was not OK and couldn’t pretend to be. Tears streamed down my face with no warning. I had come to realise that only very few people could handle the reality of deep, dark grief. So many others ran a mile and I didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. As such, I remained under the radar for some time.

Food shopping was a nightmare for me. Everywhere I turned I saw mums and daughters shopping together, just as Mum and I had done so many times in the past. Oh how I had taken it all for granted back then. Tears would well up, but I was learning how to bury the pain and dry up the tears—a skill that came in handy so many times over.

Each day that passed would deliver me a little bit more strength— perhaps from Mum, herself. I began to allow myself some quiet time to process the loss. I would let my mind go as far as acknowledging that she was no longer around in body, but I could go no further than that. The reality of never being with her again was too huge to comprehend.

--------------------------

Natalie Bassingthwaighte, Mother of one daughter aged 4 and one son aged 1, Entertainer

‘Life with a newborn is beyond exhausting. You have no idea what to do. What I learned is that the hard times come and go. Each ‘thing’ won’t last forever, as much as it seems like it will. Babies are getting used to you just as much as you are getting used them. You will find your rhythm.’

-------------------------

Rebecca Judd, Mother of one son aged 3 and one daughter aged 5 months, Media Personality and Author of ‘Rebecca Judd Loves’

‘Mothering a newborn is one of the hardest things you’ll ever do. It is bewildering, terrifying, exciting and crazy all at once. It is ok if you feel like crying and it is ok if you feel like it’s too hard. It is ok to ask for help. It is ok if you’re not coping.

‘Seeking guidance is not a sign of defeat. They say it takes a village to raise a child, so why do we pressure ourselves to do it on our own and feel guilty when we need help? Talk to your family, talk to your friends, talk to your mother’s group—hell, chat to any mother with a child down at the park. It all helps. A few pearls I have learnt from my two babies are that:

- Breast-feeding can be easy and breast-feeding can be difficult and excruciating. Both of these experiences are normal.

- You are not a bad mother if you can’t breast-feed. Formula is great!

- Newborns’ tummies are a pain in the butt. Why aren’t they ready for the world when they are born?

- It’s ok if you stay in your PJ’s all day and haven’t done the washing for weeks.

- It’s ok to serve your family fish fingers and freezer chips for dinner.

- Food, love and warmth are all that your baby needs to thrive. Don’t stress yourself out about the details.’