Some scars last a lifetime…
I sat here three years ago, mulling through many of the same things. We are in the same children’s ward. In the same hospital. There are exactly the same smells. Many of the staff are still the same. The parents camp bed is still uncomfortable. It is all so familiar. Three years on and so much has changed in our lives, yet many of the difficulties remain the same.
My daughter is in hospital having an operation that we have waited for since she was just a few months old. She was born with a leg discrepancy. When she was just two-years-old she underwent her first knee operation and then six months later, a second. At six-years-old she had another knee operation and then aged eight she had a fourth. Now, at nine-years-old, she has undergone a leg lengthening operation to fix a large external brace to her leg. She will remain in this brace for around eight months. She is remarkably strong and extremely determined. She is resilient and very brave. She is incredible.
My daughter is the one going through this. She is the person that is in and out of surgery and learning to cope with her new leg brace. But, I know that all you mothers and fathers out there will appreciate the toll that these situations can have on the parents. It is horrific watching your child go through any kind of pain. It never gets easier watching her go into theatre or to have to heal and adapt afterwards. As a mum, I find it unbelievably emotional and exhausting. Life during these periods is far from easy.
And this is where it comes back to the family dynamics. This is where the far from easy, becomes even further from anywhere that resembles easy.
There is me, her mummy. My ex-husband, her father. There is Mr. T, her step-father and the man who lives with her. And then there is my ex-husbands partner, the woman he had his affair with. I am happily remarried. But sadly, the two are not related. One does not absolve the other. My happiness and the loving support we now have from Mr. T, does not, and never will, exonerate the actions of my ex-husband and that woman. What they did to me and my children, and the endless repercussions of it all, remain unforgotten. I suffered PTSD following their affair and my marriage breakdown. I battled for two years with anxiety to find my feet again. They almost broke me.
So back to where we are now… During this difficult time, when a mother is caring for her daughter after the biggest operation she has ever faced, I really desperately needed space from the things that haunt me. I needed to stay strong for my daughter. I needed to stay strong for myself. I did not need any anxiety to return. It did.
In front of my daughter, I held things together. But, behind the scenes I crumbled, and I asked my ex-husband to give me space from ‘her’. He seemed to understand. I really did not need to feel any extra pressures during this period. But when I left my daughter in hospital, for some time at home to shower and recuperate, ‘she’ came anyway. Why did it cause me such distress and upset? Why did seeing a card left by her make my heart race and my chest tighten. My daughter and son spend two weekends a month with them as a couple when they stay with their father. I have had learned to cope with that. It is not easy, it never will be. But why did this hit me so hard? I should be used to it by now.
I asked my husband, my friends and my family to sanity check me. I turned to those who know me best. Everyone has given us space. Everyone has appreciated that my daughter is going through this, but that the role of the mum at times like this is also monumentally stressful and hard. Even some family have not visited in hospital because they appreciate the magnitude of it all. They respect the need for space and understanding.
I have sat here contemplating why I went back a few steps. Why did her presence with my daughter, at this time, become so stressful? One of my closest friends helped me to understand why I was struggling. There is always an underlying pain when you have been hurt so badly by someone. You can heal for the most part, but just like my daughter with her operations, you are left with scars. They are inevitable. After healing, you can cover things up, compartmentalise them to make it better but seeing the card from ‘her’ dredged up all those awful memories at a time when I was already so fragile. It is just like being more susceptible to catching a bug when you are already run down. With ‘her’, when I am feeling strong, I can box up the pain ‘she’ resembles and disregard it. But when I am already emotionally weakened, it completely knocked me for six.
I think this scenario has highlighted the awful scars ‘she’ has left me with. I once loved my ex-husband and he is the father of my children so somehow it is easier to accommodate the pain and understand the absolute need to have him around. He is my children’s father. He is vital, and they need him to be present in their lives. I have to move past things and parent with him. But ‘she’ symbolises all that went wrong. She is my biggest scar of all. The scar she left will never fully fade.
Everything is more complicated when you are a fractured family. I always find these times in hospital with my daughter difficult, but there is so much extra emotion that comes along with our family dynamics. Caring for our boy, collecting clothes, passing over toys and knowing that my son was sometimes in my husband’s flat and not simply at home. Having to work out daily plans to care for both our children, during this difficult time and juggling where everyone is staying. Ultimately, I also have to spend more time with my ex-husband and I find that very uncomfortable. It is just complicated and that adds extra emotion to an already emotional situation.
Three years on and so much has changed for the better in our lives, yet many of the difficulties remain the same.
Only time can heal the wounds, but sadly some scars last a lifetime. The only thing I have learned through all of this, is that no matter how hard things are, no matter how impossible they may seem, we have to learn to live with our own scars. As my daughter grows, hers will be truly visible and I will have to help her to accept them. Mine may be hidden but even so, I need to lead by example.
