One year ago daddy, mummy got a phone call that she says changed our lives forever. I don’t remember it, it was late at night and I was sleeping but I stirred when I heard mummy crying as she pat my back until I fell back to sleep.
The next morning mummy was still crying and she told me that my daddy was a star now and that I wouldn’t see him for Christmas unless I looked to the sky, she told me through her tears and her quaking voice that I would never see you again because you had to go away.
She said you were very sick for too long and couldn’t fight any longer. She said she was really scared to do all of this on her own but she would make you so proud with how she raised us kids.
I was so sad but didn’t really understand what was happening, I cried because I wanted you to come and see me every day like you used to, I cried to mummy a lot and mummy wiped my tears away with her shaky hands and promised me that everything would be ok, sometimes I didn’t believe her but her cuddles and kisses made me feel better.
‘Oh wow another girl!! You didn’t give poor daddy his boy, you’ll have to keep trying!!
I can not tell you how many times people said that to me with each pregnancy announcement and never quite understood other people’s disappointment in my bringing little human into the word regardless of gender.
I was young and let the comments slide mostly thinking it was just because we had an overwhelmingly imbalanced girl to boy ratio in the family but over the years I’d heard these remarks made constantly to friends and family and then a few days ago I saw a very similar comment made by one mum to another mumma expecting her 4th girl on a group I follow….’oh no, poor daddy!!!!!
WTAF, WHY POOR DADDY?
Today I read a post about a young mans beautiful reaction to a girl getting her first period on a bus and it reminded me of when I got mine…… and the monumental clusterfuck it was!
When I was younger my mum worked a lot and as a young single Mum working full time I spent a lot of time with another family the Sweeney’s.
When I was 12 way back when you could still sit in the back of a station wagon and share seat belts between three of us kids without being arrested and branded the worst parents to ever live I went on holidays with Chris (the mum of the fambob) and the 4 kids to a caravan park we visited each year.
I was a bit of late bleeder and still hadn’t got my period and my tits hadn’t come in yet (they still haven’t!) and I was at the stage where I was chanting ‘I must, I must, I must increase my bust’ into the mirror daily and hoping to get my period so I could be ‘mature and womanly’ after reading ‘Are you there god? It’s me, Margaret’