To Me, Love Me

There are days I find myself looking at my children and wondering what my younger self would think if she saw me now.

I was the girl who was sure she would never have children. The dreamer who wanted a career and to travel the world. The one who never thought she’d cry over lost socks or feel so out of place sometimes, barely able to remember a life before she was mum.

Then, I fell pregnant at 19, and motherhood became my new identity.

Like so many mums, my life was suddenly consumed by this small human and I loved it. I didn’t even notice the small parts of me I would sacrifice, just to give them everything they needed.

I found that motherhood has this way of changing you, but slowly so you can’t see it. Over time you get used to giving up sleep for the sound of them beside you at night. You get this tiny heart flutter when they come running to you at the school gate at the end of their day. I mean you lose time for yourself, but somehow it doesn’t seem to matter, you do it all without really noticing it.

‘I think she’d smile’

I think she’d smile, maybe a little sadly at first, because she had no idea how much of herself she’d give away to get here. But as she reflects and goes through the old albums, she’ll smile because she’ll see this wonderful rich life she created for herself and she got to take these awesome kids along with her.

But still every now and then, I catch a glimpse of her. It might be dancing in the kitchen to my mum’s 80s housework music, and I realise she’s still in there, just layered over, never completely gone. She just had to make space for someone else.

No one tells you how blurry the lines between who you were and who you’ve become can be, its a strange feeling.

And maybe that’s why, this, my job, matters to me so much. I am always drawn to capturing photos of the mothers, I think it’s because I know first hand, these photos are not just for our children one day, but for us. To be able to look back and recognise the woman we thought had to disappear to make way for motherhood.

She’s still in there. And we shouldn’t feel guilty for sometimes missing her.

Sometimes I look back at photos of 20 year old me holding my newborn, and I want to tell her it’s ok that her life turned out differently. That motherhood would become the making of her in ways she never knew she needed. She might not see all the places she thought she would, but she’ll live so many lives she won’t feel she’s missed out.

Maybe the biggest secret of motherhood

Its you that never stops becoming.

I’ve found versions of myself I never in my biggest dreams, thought could exist. Some through experiences I wish I didn’t have to go through, but from a girl who was afraid and just a dreamer, I found the fiercest strength and an overwhelming protective love I never knew was possible.

Now I sit here watching two young adults and a seven year old, dreaming for their futures instead of mine, and I feel completely at peace with that.

The hindsight

All of these lessons, suddenly become the clichés. God what I wouldn’t give to go back, even just for a moment, to feel that heart flutter of them running out of school, those truly are the only moments I’d choose to relive.

I try to hold onto to their voices and the tiny details of their faces and hands, I truly thought these things would be branded into my soul but time has a way of stealing memories too. And that is the part sometimes I find myself most frustrated with, my word, if they need to grow up thats one thing but at least let me hold on to the memories of the versions gone by.

I think as mothers, I see how we pour everything into our children and our families, and we don’t always stop to see our own growth in it. Personally I’ve been the daydreaming teen, the terrified 20 year old first time mum, the working mum who felt she had everything to prove, the woman trying to rebuild after some of the curveballs thrown at me, and me now, I’m in this learning to slow down era. But each one of these is a different layer into who I am today.

I think I can be sure that each of these women, would all say to version I am now... Just be patient. Say I love you. Be confident; this has been your own unique journey and you're stronger than you give credit for. Try not to care what other people think, (I’m really working on this one- because I can't seem to help it!). And don’t worry about what the future holds, you’ve got the experience to handle it and these amazing people around you.

Maybe this is why I take photos. Not just for other people to enjoy looking at, but because a part of me wants them to look back and feel something for the woman they were in that moment too.

If one day a future version of me reads this, and the house is quiet without the crashing of monster trucks in the living room, I hope she smiles, recognising that I finally realised their childhood was my motherhood, and that it was equally important.

Yes, it was all consuming, but it was never my whole identity, even though it shaped so much of who I became.

I hope she can see her dreams are still there- just evolved. I hope she forgives me for rushing. For worrying and getting things wrong. Because she’ll know it was never about doing it perfectly.

It was always about growing love.

So to the girl I was, and to the woman I am still becoming… You did it. You kept going.

Even when life tried to break you, you loved with everything you had.

And that was always enough.