I Felt As Alone As I Did The Morning After Mum Had Died

Flora Watkins on the pain – and envy – she felt on becoming a parent after her own mother had gone.

WATCHING MY mother-in-law cuddling my newborn son and planting a kiss on his forehead, I was suddenly overwhelmed with such intense grief that I stumbled out of the room, clutching a hand over my mouth to stop me from crying out.

My own mum had died from breast cancer when I was at university. By the time I was pregnant with my first child, 14 years later, the pain of losing her had subsided to a dull ache that I only felt at certain milestones – when I turned 30, and again, on my wedding day.

But aged 36, holding my little boy Jago in my arms renewed that raw anguish of the days and weeks immediately after her death – and nothing could have prepared me. It’s not an exaggeration to say that it felt as if she’d died again.

Like all new mothers, there were moments when I was feeding Jago, or just looking at him, when I’d be so consumed with happiness that I’d find myself weeping. But with that tsunami of emotions and pregnancy hormones came other feelings that were confusing, and impossible to process.

I couldn’t deal with the fact that Mum would never hold my baby, that he’d never know his other granny. I’d feel raging anger and jealousy when I saw other women with their mums, at baby groups or in the street. Why did they have their mums around to help them adjust their clunky buggies or fetch them a coffee while they grappled with nursing bras and hungry babies? Why hadn’t I got a mum to come and stay and give me a break? If I needed even an hour away to get my hair cut, I had to pay for childcare, which gobbled up my maternity pay.