Invisible mum

Today started like many other days recently, a routine so many of us are familiar with, a strong coffee, a load of washing in before work and a non stop chattering toddler sat in her chair stuffing in toast and squashing blueberries into unrecognisable mulch on the bottom of her dish. A normal morning for most mum's, working or otherwise. So what's so different about THIS morning? Take a look at Mum, what do you see?


Dark circles ✅
Hair almost ready for washing ✅
Nail polish remnants on toenails ✅

All normal for a busy mum yes? But what else do you see. The slight redness on her cheeks? The headache behind her eyes? The pile of medication on kitchen counter waiting to be taken? The slight shake in her hands because she hasn't taken them yet? The drip from her nose from yet another cold? Or the suppressed immune system that causes this regularly? Only those like her will recognised this picture, only those who have been through it will understand it and only those that know it will care.

She is an Invisible Mum.

The challenges of motherhood are immense and our actions and methods scrutinised by all, we are by the ignorance of many, invisible. Even without the added challenges of chronic illness, we alter or sacrifice our careers, our bodies, our mental health, but yet we blend in.  Like everyone else on the daily commute, we lay our heads against the filthy vibrating train window wishing we were still at home. We are heard but we are not seen.  How many people can empathise with these words written on the screen in front of them, know that feeling of blending into the background, as neutral as a colour scheme in rented house, neat, tidy, the norm but at the same time barely noticed.

Now imagine living in that world with an invisible and chronic illness, with judgements about your failure to breastfeed because of it, watchful glances as you swig down a handful of pills with your 50p church playgroup coffee, trying to figure out at what point you're going to have the time to collect your prescription now you're back at work, how you're going to manage an overtired baby and a hospital appointment or the fear of judgement for cancelling meet ups yet again with the few friends you've made because you can't function further than the kettle and microwave that day.. and yet you still feel guilty for trying to explain how exhausted you are to your mum friends because everyone in that room has probably only had 3 hours sleep, even though you know better than most it's a completely different tiredness.  Motherhood + misunderstood chronic illness = the hardest two challenges of your life.

And that's not even considering what it may have to throw at you in the future.  It's a lonely place to be and I say this again and again, EVERY DAY is a battle. Whether physically, mentally or socially, EVERY day you are fighting to achieve that dream of normality.

Nobody warns you before having a baby, that despite its claim of being the biggest club in the world, never have you felt more alone, we are reliant on the instincts provided through thousands of years of evolution, juxtaposed with the formalities and social norms of modern day life. We are caught in the crossfire between Mother Nature and 21st century expectations and it's exhausting! Never mind how wonderful, hard working and doting Dad is, you're never  prepared for how much YOUR life changes and so you throw your sleep deprived body into baby bounce and rhyme time classes or mummy coffee clubs with complete strangers who's kids are called Hugo and Allegra.. because all you need is to talk to another human being and compare nappy contents and colic so you start to feel like you're not flying solo in this crazy circus. You develop a whole new normality that's not quite what you expected but keeps you from going insane, it feels like a bit like wool jumper, itches at first but it'll keep you warm in the short term.

The truth is no matter how much I waffle on about how difficult it is coping with an illness, or having a young child in the midst of it all, we all have our own problems to deal with, my intention is not to demand endless sympathy for those in similar situations, all our pain and problems are relative, but what we're distinctly lacking in is kindness.  Being back at work and lolling my way through a draining commute enforces the knowledge that many of us are just as tired as one another, grabbing bottles of energy drinks in Tesco express, clutching giant takeaway coffees or closing our eyes as we lean back against our seats on the bus or train. We all have shit to deal with, some of us more than others, so.. just be kind and look past the layers of concealer, then maybe we'll all feel a little less invisible.