A letter to my baby from a surviving Mummy

Dear my little 7 lb 2 oz baby Logan,

This morning I spent time looking at a photograph from the day you were born. One that I don’t even remember being taken, at an age I don’t even remember you being. I blocked out that time of our lives because it was so painful that I couldn’t face it. There are memories shared by others that I don’t even feel like I was a part of. Just turned 19, I didn’t want it to be my reality, there was no joy, no fun, no excitement of a new bouncing baby boy. This was a time when I was at rock bottom with nothing. I had nothing to offer to you. No security, no job, no income, no A levels, barely any GCSE’s. We had been ‘homeless’ up until a week before your due date. How could I mother when all I wanted was to be a little child scooped up and kissed on the head by my own mother?

Every day was a struggle. Every night that rolled into day with your consistent waking every hour was hell. I wanted it to end. I was in a downward spiral that nobody could help me out of despite their attempts. I was so incredibly sad deep down. There were days when getting out of bed was the hardest thing I could ever imagine doing and leaving the house was the greatest achievement of the week. Every night, after checking that you were sleeping peacefully cuddled into your teddy, I cried myself to sleep, my sobs leaving my pillow soaked. I didn’t know what to feed you, I didn’t know how to bathe you, I didn’t even know that I had to speak to you. I remember breathing a sigh of relief every single night that I put your head down to sleep, knowing that we had made it through another unfulfilled day of survival. Eight years ago reaching the end of each day alive was truly an achievement yet here we are, almost 9 years later, still surviving. Still waking up every day, but this time with purpose. With love, joy and positivity in our hearts.

Amongst all of the sadness something clicked. Something that made wheels start moving and something that pushed me to start providing as the mother that I should have always been. I made decisions for us, huge decisions that caused pain for others, pain for us yet here we still are.

When you were 6 months old I went to college. In the dark early mornings I would leave you with Nanny and Grandad, still in your pyjamas and sometimes still asleep. There was no bouncing out of the door with a smile on my face after giving you a hug and a kiss, there was no sadness that I was leaving my baby each day to go to a strange place that I barely knew. I was numb. Numb to day to day life, just going through the motions. On reflection, I feel like knew nothing about you and what was going on for you during this time. I blocked it out. I missed a year in your life and I am so sorry. Never once did I take you myself, never once did I speak to your key worker, never once did I even pack your bag myself and I am so incredibly sad for missing this time of your life. But, I needed to do this, I needed to start making a life for us.

At almost 2 years old I took you away from your home town, your family and I moved you hundreds of miles away without your say. 20 year old me and you, my little baby. I needed to move forward with our lives and go to university and I hope that one day you will understand my reasons behind this. I am sorry that each day started with me dragging you to the bus stop at 7am to sit on a cold bus for an hour, to then walk a mile and a half with your little, adorable 3 year old legs to get to nursery. I am sorry for getting cross when you refused to walk the 1 and a half mile back to the bus stop after a long day at nursery, in the heavy snow and ice. I’m sorry that I had such little energy to play with you during this time and that my laptop screen took so much of your quality time away from you. For any pain I have caused and any sadness that you have felt as a result of my decisions, just know that I did this all for you and I will continue to do everything and anything for you.

Logan, I’m sorry that I haven’t provided a secure family unit for you to come home from school to each night. That you don’t have your parents under one roof, laughing together, playing games together, sharing the day to day jobs of running a house and bringing up a child together. I’m sorry that I have got angry with you for needing my attention on top of me trying to do these things. You will never know how much I wanted to spend all of my time with you and the constant guilty battle of reality getting in the way. I will never forgive myself for your affection coming at a cost of me trying to provide for you in other ways.

Although this letter seems sad, I need you to know that as I write it, at 27 years old, my heart feels so full. I am no longer sad, or depressed, or stuck in that dark tunnel of self-destruct. I am strong, I am brave and I am so full of love and positivity, and it is all because of you. I love you and I love us, as a unit. I talk about you incessantly, with pride and admiration. You are a dream, a beautiful ray of sunshine and I cannot thank you enough for remaining kind and patient whilst I build a life for us.

Now, at 8 years old we are discussing our next huge adventure together, as a team. We are making life changing decisions that are supposed to be terrifying, however with you by my side I feel no fear. You have shown me that anything is possible and you have enabled me to do whatever I want. Being your Mummy has been the most difficult, inconsistent and painful journey, but one thing has remained consistent throughout. I have always been so incredibly proud of you. I have been pushed to my limits, I have cried more tears than the entire Atlantic ocean but I have learnt love more than I could have ever imagined.

Every decision that I make is for you, to provide you with happiness, security and opportunities. My love for you is more than you will ever know and the pride that you give to me fills my heart to the brim. You have taught me resilience and strength. You have shown me the light on the darkest of gloomy days. You have made me believe that no matter how many times I fall, I can get back up and continue the fight. How have you remained so clever, so enthusiastic, so well behaved and so incredibly level headed throughout everything that we have been through?

As the summer holidays come to an end I’m feeling so emotional about my life journey with you little one. I wake up every single day grateful to have such an amazing person to share my life with, my home with, my heart with and I can’t wait to see where your life takes you. Everything I do, every day that I wake, is to provide for you. Every decision that I make is to encourage you to know that you can have, go and do whatever you want.

The world is yours so have faith and get it. Don’t waste time worrying about the opinions of others, and don’t overthink your decisions. Trust your heart and the rest will follow. Don’t waste time in mediocre relationships and in mediocre jobs. If you are consistently unhappy with something change it. You, and only you, are in control of your happiness, just believe. Time is going too fast for us and my baby is growing up quicker than I would like but my goodness we’ve been through some adventures together. I know that we are faced with another year of challenges and I already feel guilty for not being the 'perfect mother', for not being able to attend every school performance and for being late following meetings. But hey, what’s new?! Logan, I can’t wait because I know that you make my life so easy. If everything crumbles down around me I know that you are my secure structure, helping me to hold it together. 8 years old but so wise and so caring.

Please, never change.

I love you, I love you, I love you

Mummy

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