Okay so far all you know is I am a mum of three. Three daughters that is, the youngest being 6 now, the middle who is 9 and the oldest who just turned 11 years old. I have been home raising these precious human beings for over 10 years now, phew that was a sacrifice twisted into a combination of blessing and honor.

Currently I am trying to claw my way back into the workforce, with a goal of finally using my Business degree and my brain. Feel like I am in a trench most days literally clawing my way up all sides, any sides to get out.

I guess presenting an resume that has 10 years worth of a hole in it would always be a challenge. This also meant I had to face the reality of the true sacrifice I had made by being a stay at home mum which is not only confronting but also daunting.

I have a lot to be grateful for too in my life, a loving husband, three kids, our own home in  Australia bush land and so much more really.

Being at home raising children I always had one central goal in mind and that was to be emotionally connected to my children. Okay i was “green fielding” here cause it was the one thing I never got from both my parents. One area in my life where I felt they had truly failed me as their daughter.

So amid the daily struggle over the last 10 years with my goal of ‘being an emotionally connected parent’ tucked up under my wary arms I walked through the double nappies (newborn and toddler),  the tantrums in grocery stores, the kind where you are forced to abandon your trolley mid isle,  deafening screams in the car to play dates at parks then more screaming when it came time to leave, the endless sleepless nights alone moving from new born to toddler rooms to settle then re-settle, the masses of food so stuck to the floor it needed a jack hammer to remove under high chairs, the three year old that refused to wear clothes to leave the house screaming in the garage as I pretended to drive away to school, the countless midnight trips to the only late night chemist 20 kilometers away  and then  evenings waiting for him to come home, while they wrestled each other on the floor biting and hair pulling while the dinner was boiling over on the stove and that dreaded telemarketing calls.

Yes with these being my ‘every days’ I still was determined to some how be an emotionally connected mother. Always there, always listening, not “doing”  but just “being” with them.

I thought i did okay looking back with hindsight now, I think I coped okay, alone mostly in a physical and emotional sense, not depressed, mostly positive but alone.

My husband not only traveled for work on a monthly basis for a week or two at a time but he also worked 7-7 when he was home so we never saw much of him.

Always a stoic provider and man I loved dearly but often resented . Over those 10 years I stopped ironing his shirts, stopped making his dinner and decided i wouldn’t call him at work unless we were in an emergency ward. I had accepted  that he was the provider and i was just going to have to survive the kids.

I had realized also that if he couldn’t be an emotionally connected father due to his career and work commitments i had no choice but to take his place and be both parents to our daughters.

What I didn’t know was that this goal of mine would be tested in an incomprehensible way in our lives as we navigated our way through trauma and abuse.


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