Let’s talk about juggling emotions. As parents we go through hundreds of them and often its difficult to process how to manage them all. It’s only 8.40 am and in the 2 and a half hours iv’e had to get them all out the door to school I’m left alone in the kitchen, head in my hands, crying because I feel like a failure. I feel guilty, lost, alone, angry, tearful, tired and mentally stretched, exhausted and frustrated.
Iv’e had 4 hours sleep as my daughter was in pain during the night crying with joint pain. since she had Glandular Fever back in October she’s not gone 4 weeks without an illness or feeling unwell. Currently she’s in bed out for the count as her pre-teen body is weighed down with exhaustion and a fever. I’m helpless as these illnesses just keep re-occurring.
My toddler was grotty this morning and had 3 stubborn tantrums between 6.30 am and 7.30 am before his childminder collected him for me . I’m still unable to drive from double foot surgery in May and feel so guilty that we’d not spent much time together this morning. I’d not had chance to brush his teeth with comforting my daughter and so I packed his toothbrush off with the childminder so she could do it with him instead.
Once he had left I realised it was 7:35 am and my eldest son at 12 years old needed to leave a 7:50 am but he was anxious. Tears rolling down his face as he tried to swallow his toast. He’s worried, worried about which way to ride his bike to school and about the homework he completed last night. As he eats I sit at the table trying to reassure him that he will have a safe journey and that it’s gong to be OK. CBT is the therapy CAMHS have said he needs but its a 40 week waiting list and the support from external services in between this is minimal. I feel helpless again yet frustrated at the fact this Generalised Anxiety Disorder has stemmed from lack of stability, contact and love from fathers. Years of being let down for contact, lied to and forgotten about has given this pre teen son of mine insecurities and anger outbursts. Helpless to his pain yet guilty of gifting him his father.
It’s 8:12 am and he finally finds the courage to set off, now anxious he’s going to be late he gives me a final look back for reassurance as he rides down the street. I close the door behind him fighting tears then realise that my 7 year old needs to be at school in less than half an hour. He’s overwhelmed and starting to have a meltdown at the concept of his big sister not walking to school with him. He has traits of PDA (rare form of Autism) and last minute change isn’t good for him or his emotional well-being.
Calmly I explain I will find someone for him to walk to school with. He knows the way but he’s only 7. Its a safe route, no big crossings and a 5 minute walk with a lovely lolly pop lady on the way. Frantically I message and call three neighbours on the street. Non of them can help on this particular morning. He was going to have to walk alone, my feet were still too sore and swollen to walk any further than around the house. The feeling of vulnerability hit, the shame hit, the anger hit. Where was his father?
He put his shoes and coat on and I handed him his pack lunch box (yes I’d made 3 of these in the middle of all this). I gave him a big kiss and told him I was calling the school office for the staff to inform me when he had got to school. As he approached the end of the drive he shouted “Love you” and headed of to school.
Immediately I called school and explained the situation. They were ever so understanding but I could hear the disapproval in their tone. Confirmation that he had arrived I was relieved and then went about the task of finding a parent to bring him home at 3:15 pm. Thankfully someone could help, didn’t make me feel any less guilty but I could now let out the roar of pain in my heart and sob into my hands in the Kitchen. Barley able to see I furiously tx his father asking why he could never offer to help? He’d called a 7 am that morning and new his step-daughter was unwell again but he never asked how his son would get to school. Nor did he contemplate that I was unable to walk with my feet. Why is it that as mothers we mentally carry and consider everything with our children but often fathers do not feel the same responsibility is required from them. In my whole 13 years of being a mother it is me who has always left work to collect any of them from school when they are unwell or had an accident. It is I who sacrifices everything to be there at home when they are poorly have the dentist, opticians or hospital appointments (my daughter has a lot of these), CAMHS visits, child psychologist meetings, parents evenings, sports days- the list is endless.
Why when it takes two humans to create a life is it often one parent that is left to care, love, nurture, protect and parent the child?
I’m roaring from my soul for support but my mind knows that ‘support’ and father do not come in the same sentence.
9:03 am and I’m coming to the end of my rant via tx messages. Emotionally warn out I can feel more and more of myself disappearing
Know one knows if i’m OK, assume i’m strong, ploughing on. Only this paper and pen know the true extent of whats really wrong.
Wipe my tears, gulp the guilt. My friends just arrived for Coffee at 9:15
am I must carry on I must not give in.
Written on Monday 4th June By Francesca Shaw
The Wise Womb Woman 
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