DEAR GRACE

Dear Grace,  Every time something sweet or sentimental happens and it's related to you, I cry. I don't mean like it comes from a deep place, it's right there, just lingering. Tears always waiting to shed.  When you are kind to your friends and show buckets of empathy. Cry.  When you do something grown up like learning a dance. Cry.  When I think of our relationship when we're both older. Cry.  It's never when I am with you, talking to you and interacting. It's when I am watching on, spectating your life, and observing you. It's like I am proud of my work or something. Like when you paint a picture and stand back and someone says, "That's so beautiful". That's the moment that gets me.  I lie. There are more. People think I have sore eyes, but I just cry happy tears about you all the time.  I am a very emotional Mummy, but I tend to find and unpack a lot of my emotions when I am alone. I believe thats something to do with my childhood. So, th

Dear Grace,  Believe it or not, before you were born, I had a very large life. I was 33 when I had you, and preceeding that was a big chunk of memories.  As I reflect on my life, the decades feel like layers. Layers, because as new things happen or change the past doesnt leave. It just layers on top of an already rich, heavy set of experiences. Every layer does not take anything away, it just gets thicker and thicker. Building a new version of me, while the same little girl exists underneath it all... My childhood was spent in Narooma, riding bikes and horses, playing piano and videoing everything on a cassette. I lived a huge chunk of my childhood at my friend Tegans house. Almost every weekend, I loved her family and I guess they loved me. I wasn't an only child, but there was a decent age gap between everyone and it meant I needed to find people to play with.  I am going to make sure your afternoons, weekends and holidays are full of amazing, outdoor experiences like this. You&

 Dear Grace,  Every few weeks theres 3-4 days when you go to your Dads house, and I feel guilty about everything.  I feel guilty about breaking up the family, and not being able to see you.  I feel guilty that you are forced to live in two worlds all the time.  I feel guilty that you are not here with me feeling vulnerable and loved.  I feel guilty that I am spending so much time with just me, and not being a Mum.  All of these feelings are raw and real and I push them down deep becuase I know it's not healthy to live my life dripping in guilt. But I need to unpack a few of them so I can manage the weekend without you.  I am blown away by the way my brain rewires itself when I have time to spend in my own head. I am able to revisit so much of what I cared about in my 20's. Building a life of purpose, discovering my core values and analysing who I am and why. It's majorly self indulgent for a Mum to persue these thoughts, they feel so self-involved, self-important.  I guess

 Dear Grace,  It's November and around this time your Mum becomes rather reflective. I have just enjoyed 14 days without you my baby, and I didn enjoy them. I don't feel guilty about that, I need to be alone with my thoughts sometime. I need moments to recalibrate.  The last 2 years have been the most challenging of my life. I feel regret about that. Mostly that you did'nt get the best of me. I am ready for this to change.  I found this quote that made me feel clarity.  “Holding on is believing that there’s only a past; letting go is knowing that there’s a future.” – Daphne Rose Kingma There is so much about letting go of my past that makes me feel torn, sad, and guilty. Your feelings are the ones I care about the most. Will letting go of the past be letting go of your childhood in some way? Will letting go of your Dad result in bad feelings for you now or later? But, I can't hold on to the past any longer. I need to let go, or else I won't be the Mum you deserve. 

 Dear Grace,  The details of how your Dad and I seperated have confused my own heart for a long time. This week when I found out your Dad was confirmed seeing someone else, my heart broke in a new and small way I did not expect.  It's making me recycle my decisions and calibrate the way I felt when I left and how I feel now.  I always felt undervalued loving your Dad, I did alot, like most women. But I didn't just do what the women "normally" do, I did it all. I did the finances, I organised the daycare, I cleaned, cooked, shopped, dug, gardened, organised birthdays, Christmases... the list goes on and I loved it. He has never been an overly motivated man and his mental health didn't help. I don't think my overcompensating helped either. I liked that role though, I was used to being the caretaker of everything, it suited me.  All I needed from your Dad was for him to adore and appreciate me for what I did. I wanted him to walk in the door kiss me and say "

Dear Grace,  The sun is setting a little later this month, so we stole the hour after daycare to go for a walk along the water. I always find doing something outside after daycare fills our cup. I asked if you wanted to go for a bike ride or a walk in your pram, you're always tired after daycare, so you said you wanted to go in the pram.  As we walked, I played the Frozen soundtrack and you ate crackers and sang the whole way down the boulevarde. You sang quietly in the dramatic parts and screamed at the top of your lungs for the big notes. "Let it gooooooooo". Unahamedly screaming your heart out.  Everyone walking by could not help but smile, you were gleefully happy, not a care in the world. The feeling of pure hapiness was palpable and contagious. I looked on in awe that you could still be that way knowing that one day you'll be too self concious to do that. Knowing one day when you're an adult, doing that will no longer be socially acceptable. What a sad reali