Oh, you know, its one of those thingswhen you ask questions like that, maybe its better not to have kids at all. And dont listen to anyone. I did, back in the day Mum sighed. All those people giving advice vanish when it matters, and youre left carrying the weight forever.
Sensible advice, maybe, but it sent a chill through Emily. Her throat tightened, eyes stung. If she didnt end the call now, shed be sobbing into the phone. The worst part? Mum probably wouldnt even realise why.
«Got it. Thanks, Mum. Ill think about it Well talk later,» Emily said and hung up.
She pulled a cushion close, hugging it, shoulders slumping. This wasnt just advice. It was a careless revelation. Emily could practically feel the door to her past swinging open, everything clicking into place.
…Mum, Charlotte, had been diligent. Punctual. Always made sure Emily ate well, gave her the best, even when she went without. Emily had toys, clothes, everything. Even as a single mum, Charlotte sent her to piano lessons and ballet.
In short, Emily had everything. Except love.
Charlotte never said «I love you.» No hugs, no heart-to-hearts, no praise. Heck, she didnt even scold. Just indifference.
Emily remembered getting a failing grade with her desk mate, Sophie, who was gutted.
«Lucky you. You wont get told off at home. Im gonna get it If I dont text tonight, theyve taken my phone and laptop,» Sophie sighed.
«Youre the lucky one. At least they care enough to tell you off» Emily muttered.
Sophie stared. Who in their right mind wanted shouting and lectures?
«Lost the plot, have you? Fine, you can listen to my parents complaints instead,» Sophie snorted. «Be my guest.»
Emily looked away. Shed have loved to. But Mum never checked her schoolbook. Why would she? Emily was top of the class. Until she wasnt.
At first, Emily thought if she was «good enough,» Mum would notice. Praise her piano recitals, her grades, cheer at ballet performances. But no. Mum reacted like it was expected.
Emily faked being ill once. Said her stomach hurt. Wanted Mum to fuss, care for her. Not proud of it, but how else to get attention?
It half-worked. Mum did pay more attentionjust not the kind Emily wanted. Charlotte dragged her to doctors until they diagnosed mild gastritis. Then it was strict mealtimes, medicine schedules, no treats. No comfort, no worry. Just clinical efficiency.
So Emily went nuclear. Skipped school, failed classes, quit ballet and piano, stopped helping at home. Even mouthed off.
Nothing.
«Dont want to study? Your problem,» Mum said calmly one day. «Ill feed you till youre eighteen, then youre on your own. But if you drop out, good luck finding work. Even shop assistants need GCSEs.»
About chores, Mums rule was simple: no clean floors, no going out. Emily tried a tantrum. Mum just pointed to the door.
«Save the drama for your room,» Charlotte said, shutting herself away.
No more tantrums after that. Emily cried half the night, feeling abandoned. Like she was just a doll to Mumdress it, put it to bed, ignore its feelings.
She pushed further. Once, she slept at a friends without telling Mum. Wondered if Charlotte would panic or forget she had a daughter. Maybe even sigh in relief?
Nope. Charlotte called everyone, found Emily, brought her home. No yelling, no guilt trips.
«Keep this up, and youll end up in police hands. They wont coddle youtheyll say Ive failed as a parent and send you to care,» Mum stated coldly.
Emily almost wished shed thrown plates, screamed, even grabbed a belt.
Over the years, she didnt accept itjust got used to it. Moving in with her fiancé, James, helped. They rushed things, engaged within six months. Starved for love, Emily latched on fast.
Luckily, James was decent. Solid, with plans.
«What do you think about kids?» he asked long before the wedding.
Emily froze. Kids were the logical next step, sure. But the idea of having her own? Terrifying. What if she was a bad mum? What if her child felt as she had?
«I dont think Im ready,» she admitted.
But plans change. Emily got pregnant. Bad timingno house of their own, prices rising faster than wages.
«Oh, come off it. Most have mortgages or nothing at all. People manage,» her mate said when Emily voiced doubts.
James was all for it.
«Your call, but were married, doing alright. Id like to be a dad.»
The more she heard that, the more she doubted. Finally, she asked Mumand got an answer that changed everything. Turns out, shed been unwanted too?
And Charlotte said it so matter-of-factly. Brutal honesty cuts deepest.
Emily shut down for days. Went to work, cooked dinners, watched films with Jamesbut mechanically. Could she really go her whole life without hearing «I love you» from Mum? And what about the baby?
She cracked, visiting Jamess mum, Margaret. Stern but warm, Margaret drew Emily in. Sure, shed gripe about «kids these days» or dust on the shelves, but that beat indifference.
«Emily? What brings you by unannounced?» Margaret asked, wary.
«Just wanted to visit,» Emilys voice wobbled.
Margaret didnt pry. Made tea, brought out bread and jam.
«Theres stewed beef with runner beans if you fancy it,» she said, eyeing the fridge. «You and James havent rowed?»
«No,» Emily chewed her lip. «Just Mum.»
And the floodgates opened. Emily spilled everythingthe lonely childhood, the failed tests no one cared about, the silent dinners, the fear of being unloved, the guilt.
Margaret listened, frowning. Finally, she set her cup down with a sigh. Emilys stomach dropped. Had she overshared?
«Listen, love,» Margaret said after a pause. «I knew you two were distant, but not like this. Dont hold it against her, alright? Dont think she meant harm. Life hardens some people. Maybe shes got no instinct for it. Couldve been worse. Charlottes a bad mum, but not a bad person.»
«Good people love their kids.»
«Some dont. Its awful, but it happens. Sometimes they dont even love themselves» Margaret sighed. «About the babydo what feels right.»
«What if Im like Mum?»
«You wont,» Margaret waved a hand. «James told me how you nursed that stray cat. People who cant love dont do that.»
«A babys not a cat. What if I mess up?»
«Think anyone gets it right first go? Secretall good mums worry theyre bad. No ones perfect. I messed up, your mum did, you will too. And its okay. Wanting to love, even when you fumble, thats what matters. Oh, listen to metold you not to heed advice, then rattled on» She smiled.
Emily smiled backsmall, but real. The fear didnt vanish, but it eased. Talking to Margaret, she felt warmth, not the usual chill.
She kept the baby. Pregnancy was roughmorning sickness, mood swings, fear. But James fetched cravings at 2 AM, rubbed her back, endured the meltdowns. Margaret helped toodoctor visits, baby-care tips.
Mum called rarely. Just asked if help was needed. After the birth, she visited with a bag of baby clothes. That was it.
Years flew. Emilys daughter grewcurious, loud, stubborn. She threw tantrums, broke toys. Emily got angry, tired, but when her girl was ill, shed sit by her, stroke her hair, read stories. Sometimes shed tear up, unable to explain why.
She was ashamed to admit it: she was giving her daughter what shed once craved.
Things with Mum didnt thaw, but they stayed civil. Emily stopped expecting the impossible. She helped with money, brought groceries, called about blood pressure. Charlotte wasnt a good mum or granbut she was there. Maybe she couldnt love, but in her way, she tried. And sometimes, thats enough.
