The Mum Version Of Me

They say becoming a parent changes you. And it does.

I mean I’m still me, just the mum version of me. There’s the obvious stuff like the dirty nappies, permanent vomit on the shoulder and baby paraphernalia taking over the lounge room.

But I wasn’t ready for how every sad news story now affects me at my deepest level. Every house fire, every car accident. I can’t help but think what if that was my child, my baby.

A missing little boy makes me hug mine a little tighter. A sick child makes me pray for mine a little harder. Three little babies being left behind at a hospital because their mum can’t afford them or cope with the realities of triplets brings tears to my eyes.

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When you’re a parent, the need to protect your cub is sometimes overwhelming. You know there will be skinned knees and broken arms and broken hearts in the future but you can’t help but want to protect them from all the bad things.

A little rash, a scratch on the face from a tiny sharp fingernail or a sniffly nose is enough to bring on a bout of guilt and a tug at the heart strings.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a crazy mum who worries about everything and I don’t want to be the mum that wraps her kid in cotton wool. Kids will be kids and often learn through a little bump to the head or a tumble over clumsy feet, but I absolutely have a new found respect for any parent who has had to experience a sick child or worse.

If this is you, my hat goes off to you and my daily prayersΒ now include you.

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