Today’s post comes from a member of our team, responsible for writithe copy on our website and running our blog.
Molly Forbes can also be found writing over at her personal parenting blog, Mother’s Always Right, writing parenting and lifestyle features for various magazines and websites and co-presenting the breakfast show on Heart in Wiltshire. She has got ten arms. (One of these facts may be a lie.)
Photo credit: Molly and her daughter, courtesy of CP Photography
It’s 10 o’clock at night and I’ve had a difficult day. I’m tired and emotional and a bit overwhelmed.
We’ve been at the hospital, you see. My daughter, now approaching 22 months old, is still not walking. The doctors think there may be a problem with her hips.
She is X-rayed and examined and yes, it’s confirmed, there is a problem. Nothing hugely serious. But she won’t be walking this time next week, or even this time next month.
And here’s the thing. I’m numb. I don’t know how to feel about this. On the one hand, I’m thankful that she won’t need surgery. But on the other hand, I’m upset that there is something wrong. I was hoping the doctors would tell me otherwise, that it was all just a big mistake.
So when a message pops up on Facebook, telling me that an old friend from school has got in touch – a friend I haven’t seen for more than 10 years – it’s a welcome distraction.
And when I open the message, I find myself welling up. It tells me that my old friend has been thinking of me today. That she has read my blog posts about my daughter’s walking issues. That she wants me to know everything will be alright, that my family and I will see through the treatment together.
This friend is someone I haven’t seen – or even spoken to – for more than a decade. But she knows exactly how I feel, because she’s a mum too.
She confides that being a mum is both wonderful and very hard. That even though we haven’t spoken in an age, she is here for me if I need to talk. These are words I need to hear this evening.
The effect of this message is better than a bar of chocolate or a glass of wine. I find myself smiling.
And determined to repay that favour as soon as I have the chance.
Which is lucky really. Because Netmums have recently launched their United Kindmums Campaign. It’s all about making small changes to our own lives, to make a big change to others. It’s about turning the idea of a random act of kindness (like my Facebook message) into a reality. It’s about paying forward a favour. It’s about coming together with other mums as a community, to make life easier for ourselves and our families.
It’s about the stuff we see happening in films all the time, but don’t experience every day in “real life”.
And it’s a reminder that I’m not alone. There are lots of other mums, just like me, who know exactly how I feel. We’re in it together.
©2012
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What a lovely post. There have been times I have almost, but then not, got in touch with old friends like this – usually thinking it wasn’t my place to butt in – now I’ll know to go ahead and do it. So pleased you had someone to cheer you up that day. x
Thanks for the lovely comment Katie – it’s funny how something as small as a message on Facebook can make a big difference. Thanks for letting us know about the brilliant Netmums campaign too. x
People moan about Facebook, but I think it’s kinda wonderful for reasons like this. With Facebook I keep stronger and closer connections with people I may otherwise have little or no contact with and every so often a person pops up from the past and it really warms my heart.
Sending love Molly.
This almost inspires me to be more open about my blog. X
It’s a definite plus of Facebook. Thanks for the lovely comment Gemma. x
Hi Molly, I hv gone through the same when my daughter didnt walk till 24 months. I remember how every moment spent thinking about this was like living a nightmare, not knowing why my sunshine was different from everyone else’s. She is walking now, delayed on physical agility but catching up fast and the happiest child by far. I hope things are better and all mums are with you. I wish I had had that comfort with me.. i had felt isolated..
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