(just 4 months before she died)

I know this seems like a topic that may be out of place on a blog dedicated to my battle to become a mother myself but I don't think it is. My Mum shaped who I am today and without her love, support and friendship growing up I don't think I would be able to cope the way that I have with what has been thrown at me since she passed. For some reason I always felt that I wouldn't have infertilty because of losing my mum - I felt that losing a parent would be the challenge of my life. It seemed so unfair to me that I would get tossed two huge challenges - one being living my adult life without my mother by my side and the cruel twist of not being able to become a mother myself. But I try not to dwell on the unfairness of the situation, these are my hurdles and I will do my best to cope with both in the best way I know how. 

My Mum died of breast cancer in 2003 after a two year battle with the disease at the age of 43. I was 21 at the time. It was the most devastating experience in my life  watching someone you love so much go through so much pain and fade away. It was only made more bearable by having my husband by my side from the time of her death onwards (we got together only weeks before her passing so she was aware of my new relationship and met him once on her death bed at the hospice) I think it helped her to know that I had him by my side when she passed. I like to think that the reason our baby is taking so long to come to us is because he/she is having too good a time up there with my mum and they're not ready yet. I also think that perhaps she is being fussy choosing just the perfect little soul to send to me. If you knew her you would understand how accurate that is - she was a huge prefectionist, that's where I get it from! Either way I am sure she is watching over me. 

But this isn't about being sad . . . the reason I felt I should dedicate a page to her was because I think she would be so proud of me starting this blog as she was an immensely talented artist, writer and poet herself and since she died I had given up my passion for the same things. I haven't written in years. I used to spend hours writing stories, poems and painting but since she died I haven't been able to do any of these things. It was like I had a mental block that stopped me from doing it. But since I started this blog I feel like the curtain of grief that has stopped me from indulging in these old loves has lifted and for that I am grateful. Perhaps some things take time.

Below I want to share some of her poems and artwork. I hope she is as proud of me wherever she may be as I am proud of having had her as a mother and the most important influence in my life.

I can only hope I will be just as amazing a mother to my children as she was to me.

I have two poems I would like to share - the first is one she wrote about me as a child and the second I find hugely influential. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I have enjoyed sharing them. 


She picked me a handful of flowers today
Marguerites, pansies, some dandelions I had ferociously
attacked last autumn
but which had nevertheless survived

I looked into that expectant face
tendrils of hair falling against the wild flush of summer
in her cheeks
and knew that soon
there would be no more lovingly snatched flowers
or breathless smiles
quite like that

and so although they weren’t my kind of flowers
I put them in a vase
and kissed her
and listened to all the things she was trying to say

for childhood cannot be stilled
or put on hold until that last desperate moment
feeling it flutter its wings against us
we clutch it too tightly,
too late

Like a bird
it will simply struggle
and fly away.


To do one thing that is true
to yourself,
not listening to the voices
that would mock you
into staying ordinary

To do all the many things
that are inside
and need to get out,
not remaining beholden to
the suffocating tedium
of other people's expectations

To be brimful with anticipation
for whatever new passion might be
waiting to unfurl;

To have stories to tell,
instead of nothing to say

How sad to live a life
that is not like that.