To say juggling a career and motherhood is a challenge, will be the biggest understatement going to the majority of us.

There is no denying, in my blog how often I voice my ‘Mum guilt’, and it is absolutely right to do so. We shouldn’t barricade our thoughts and feelings because society have made us to believe for too long that Motherhood is a beautiful piece of art.

It’s not.

It’s tough. Sodding tough.

I often torture myself in split seconds I have to ponder; am I doing the right thing, should I work so often? Should I be spending more time at home with my children? Do the children remember that I miss bedtimes, sometimes upto 4 nights a week? Do I give them enough divided attention? Do I show them I love them enough? Do I discipline them enough? Do I discipline them too much? Am I shouty Mummy? Am I doing homework ok? Am I giving Livy enough guidance? Am I giving Luka-james enough attention around his school day? Is Parker’s needs being met? Do I tell them I love them enough every day?

These are the type of questions that batter my mind, like a energetic adrenaline junkie, high on candy floss at the funfair bumping the shit out of every poor soul not quite fast enough to dodge the dodgem of doom, every night before I close my eyes on another day.

This Friday Livy and I saw Luka-James off to school, Parker-James went happily off to Nanny and Grampy’s and whilst our morning consisted of a visit from the Teacher of the deaf and blood tests we had a rare afternoon together.

The world was our oyster.

I cannot remember the last time we had just a Mummy and Livy day, and whilst I sing my praises of what a lovely little girl my daughter is, as we walked hand in hand in the autumn warmth, I honestly felt choked up at what a beautiful special soul she truly is.

Her nature is bubbling of curiosity and excitement of what’s to come next. With every leaf, she found herself carrying such eagerness and enthusiasm that the exact leaf she choose to give to me, was definitely extraordinarily different to the hundred others that have fallen upon the footpath full of autumnal hues of soft golden browns and orange.

And whist she still cannot communicate clearly, being non verbal and not so fluent in sign just yet. I understood every single gesture, I could read her expression to radiate the same look of surprise or enthusiasm back to my kind hearted girl. It’s like when we’re both in the great outdoors, where we’re surrounded by nature’s beauty, we just connect on the same level.

Even if we’ve walked this same footpath 20 times before, her hand in mine we made it more exciting and I think we both truly cherished this rare Mother and Daughter time.

We collected leafs of many colours, we pointed out the ducks that gently went along their business, we waved at dogs that bounced happily past us, we skipped amongst the crunchy leafs, we ran side by side hand in hand, we splashed in the waters and the muddiest of puddles until our socks went soggy and our cheeks throbbed from laughter. We went down the slide nearly fifty times just to hear her sweet giggle of joy as she kissed my forehead after every go and I’d go down that slide fifty more times daily just to hear that sweet precious sound for the rest of my life, until she cannot fit on my lap and glide down the slide in happiness.

Sometimes we become so consumed and wrapped up in making a living, that we forget to live and to make memories with our children.

The pressures that modern day family’s face, the pressures to rise to expectations that families with disabled children, have to ensure we go above and beyond to reach their needs, the pressures to succeed and be noticed at work. The pressure of failing with all these people’s faces curiously watching the way you carry yourself, the way we parent or work.

The fear of failure, fills me with dread.

We let slip of the true meaning of happiness of life, because no amount of money could even buy me the happiness of my hearing my daughter giggle in my lap every time we splashed or glided down the slide, like we did that day.

Every doubt that ever crossed my mind if I’m doing ok as a Mother, reminded me that everything she is becoming is from our guidance and nurturing as parents.

And Alivia-Ellen, my darling. Whilst we wait in uncertainty if you’ll be ready for mainstream school in 2020, I, for one know you’ll move mountains in anything you set your desire on.

Published by Mothering Silence

A late twenty-something mother of two boys and a profoundly deaf diva of almighty sass. In between splitting spontaneous sibling wars, curiatimg pillow forts and channeling inner superheroes. Mothering Silence documents a brutally honest truth of the trials and tribulations of motherhood. (The toughest hood.) Here you'll find the weekly ramblings of the rollercoaster life of my journey in motherhood. *Please note my style of writing is tongue in cheek.

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