Before I start proclaiming my love as the title suggests, a bit of background information for y’all. Last year during some tricky moments, I started writing a series of silly love letters to the important people in my life. I wasn’t writing for any purpose other than to write about things and people that make me happy. It’s a good remedy for feeling sh*tty. This one I’m going to share with you I kept going back to when I felt sad, because it’s all about HOPE. Coincidentally it also addresses the wonders of the vagina (obviously), birth and the endurance and power of the female reproductive system – which in this story is very, very powerful.
This love letter is to my best friend. The most unlikely to become a Mum, Mum.
I hope the ‘most likely to become a Mum, Mum’ doesn’t offend you. It’s not meant to sound the way it does. I was trying to think of the best way to describe everything that has to you happened in one sentence… which is apparently impossible. You’ve been through a lot and something like ‘the most tatted up Mum’ just didn’t do you justice. Your exterior doesn’t define you anyway, your huge heart does. Literally screw anyone that never gave you the chance to show it to them. (I would have used the F word there, in honour of you and your potty mouth, but I’m trying to keep it PG hun). Those people didn’t deserve you anyway.
If someone had asked me 5 years ago, “Who is the most likely to become a Mum out of your friends?” I wouldn’t have said you. Which seems strange now because you are the most caring, sensitive and thoughtful friend I have, but I didn’t think you would be here. I was always prepared to lose you before we reached our twenties and that’s why it was unlikely to be you.
You have seen some of the darkest times possible. I remember stroking your hair as you lay in my lap crying in the 6th form common room. You went away for a bit after that to get better and it was very quiet without you. Then you saw worse times and met the nastiest people. People who treated you dreadfully and took advantage of that really big heart. This is how I think some people may still perceive you though, someone with this trouble resting on their shoulders. Someone they used to know. Someone that didn’t want to be here. This person was unlikely to have a baby and wasn’t even sure if she would be able to.
Well boy were we all so wrong.
You became a woman full of life with buckets of love to give. You found your sunshine and became a Mum to a tiny growing Pip. Something you had only dreamed about.
Years of endometriosis. Cysts. PCOS. Contraceptive pills at the age of 11. Temporary menopause. Injections. Constant heavy bleeding. Crippling pain. Days off school. Zoladex. Laparoscopy after laparoscopy. Packets of Tramadol. And another temporary menopause led to one exhausted female body.
At the age of 16 you turned to me and said, “I’ll never be able to have children.” And at 22 there was a discussion about a hysterectomy.
You’ve just turned 25 and you are a Mumma to not one, but two babies. After your last surgery in February 2017 you became pregnant in July the same year. You told me the news on your parents’ patio. We were drinking out of coke cans. You were wearing black and I was wearing a hideous shirt. Nothing was different but everything was about to change. A little Bee was cooking!
Your body and vagina are my biggest inspirations. No but seriously, your determination, courage and WOMB are magnificent.
I wish we could have fast forwarded to today to show you even just a glimpse of how much you will and have accomplished. How much we need you here. Because now, you are the most likely. Of course you are. I see you walking around barefoot in your home and I think, of course she is a Mum. This is the way it was always meant to be. And this year another adorable soul has landed in the bee-hive and I could not be happier. The birth only took you a couple of hours and then you were on the phone to me like, “Hey babe, what you up to? Guess what?!”
You are going to teach your babies to be so loving and sensitive, as well as strong and passionate. They will take after their Mum and always give the world just the right amount of sass, shouting “HUN” at the top of their little voices. I cannot wait to watch them grow.
I not only look up to you as a mother, but as a friend. You have never wavered in being by my side. Even during both of your labours, you were there. You always give our friendship consideration and time, whilst loving and caring for a teething baby bouncing on your hip. Thank you for being my best friend and always supporting me in my own endeavours, vaginas and beyond. One day I’ll return the favour. I’ll be sat with your growing hive, sobbing, and I’ll turn to the person sitting next to me in the audience and say through a snotty nose, “That’s my best friend up there.”
Nobody deserves more love, happiness and success than you. I really mean that. You gave the world a second chance and for that you deserve the world.
Your story, (vagina) and babies give me hope every day. I will love you all forever.