Even though it was over ten years ago, it’s effects have lasted much, much longer. When my eldest son was born into this less than idyllic life, I had no idea what to expect. Long before ‘AP’, ‘gentle’ or ‘positive’ parenting terms were in the public domain, I just followed my own instincts and kept my little bundle of joy close. It turns out that that was probably what saved me.
My eldest son was born almost 11 years ago, when I was 22 and just finished at University. I had moved away from all of my family to be with his father and found myself pregnant, in a new city and knowing no-one but my partner. When my 8lb 2 (and a half!)oz baby arrived naturally and very quickly into the world, I looked at him and I knew that this was what I was meant to be; a mother.
The happiness soon soured though as I continued to breastfeed with a bad latch, bleeding nipples and a bad relationship. I was about ready to give up, ditch the breastfeeding and give him formula when I made, what turned out to be, one of the best decisions of my life. I attended the local sure start centre and joined their breastfeeding support group. They’d visited my antenatal class and, although they seemed like lovely ladies, I admit to wondering why on earth you needed a whole group devoted to breastfeeding… I mean you just stick them on your boob, it’s natural, right?
Wrong! It was so hard and one of the things I am most proud of achieving in my life (yes, more than my degree, PGCE, driving test and 50m swimming badge put together). But this support group became more than just a group of lovely ladies to me. They were my lifeline. Attending those groups every week was the only thing I had to look forward to. Those women did so much more for me than even they probably realise.
I turned up to the support group religiously and my breastfeeding journey with my son became a much, much easier ride. Through them I was introduced to baby slings and real nappies something which my babies- although not my bank balance - were grateful for. After a while, I trained to become a peer supporter myself and helping others gave me a great feeling of satisfaction. I loved being part of the group and going there made me feel like a ‘normal’ mum. But, behind closed doors, things weren’t great and I knew that I had to leave for the sake of my son, and me.
When I finally confided in friends at the support group, they were shocked. I do not appear to be a ‘typical’ domestic abuse victim- because there is no such thing. On the surface I was confident, happy, friendly- I was an intelligent young women and I came from a nice, middle class family – surely things like this didn’t happen to nice girls like me? But they do. I followed the very typical pattern; when he kicked me so hard I couldn’t lay on the left side of my body for weeks, I left, but when he begged and apologised and threatened, I went back. I didn’t go back because I loved him, or because I was stupid, I went back because I was scared, and not for myself. It was only when I finally confided in this community of natural parents that I finally realised that I had to go.
The staff member that I spoke to the day he had smacked me across the face was so kind to me that I will never, ever forget her.
It took years, and another baby, before I finally left behind the control that my partner had over me, but through it all my baby, and then babies, were kept close to me. We healed together. They slept with me, I carried them, I rocked them, I loved them with all my heart. But the people that gave me the strength to do that, and to take the gentle path with my children, were those women. Those women that gave up their time to help support others. It may only be a breastfeeding support group, but to me they were my everything. I truly believe that creating a community, be that online, a group or a coffee morning, that we can empower each other as parents and that sharing our highs, and lows, with
each other is one of the most powerful parenting tools there is.
So, to every mum out there, giving up her time to help another one like her, thank you. You are doing so much more than you could ever know.
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