I just couldn’t fathom in those early stages how I could ever combine my role as a mum and be someone else’s girlfriend. The two couldn’t co-exist, as far as I was concerned.
Hands up whose kid ate peanut butter toast for breakfast, lunch and dinner yesterday? Sound familiar? Yep. This one’s for you.
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It only took a few brief seconds of stopping to consider whether I too should feel ashamed of being a single mum - I mean, I suppose I am a failure in comparison to all of the other mums I know who’ve managed to keep their families together - before I thought… Fuck. That.
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The future you're blissfully piecing together with my son’s father isn’t too dissimilar to the one I had in my head once upon a time too. That’s why, occasionally, it’ll be hard to see you stand in the place I once stood.
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What kind of mother in their right mind would admit they didn’t want to go home to their son? Well, me. It’s not an easy confession to make. And certainly not one I make lightly.
But, whether we like to admit it or not, we all have moments when we wish we could take our mum hat off and bury our face in a pillow for an unspecified period of time.
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I’ve come to accept that’s just part and parcel of sharing a responsibility that means everything to both of us. Oliver is our flesh and blood. He’s the sum of a love we both once shared, transmuted through his skin and bones.
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How could such a beautiful, special soul, give up on herself so easily because one man couldn’t see her worth?
Easily, it turns out. Because I’d spent months doing the exact same thing.
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It was as I was falling asleep to a mantra to encourage a flow of abundance, I realised I was a cliche. You know the one… the girl who has her heartbroken and turns to spirituality in a bid to heal from the inside out.
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We were doing so well, I’d think. Co-parenting isn’t all that bad, I’d tell my friends. But then... something snapped.
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