How Pubic Hair Broke My Heart



They are only 20 months apart so developmentally one is hot on the heels of the other.

I’m talking about my boys, my babies, my first and second born.


They were so different emotionally and personality-wise but they each desperately needed me and that was my purpose.


I loved, I nurtured, I taught, I consoled, I disciplined, I healed, I fed.


I was the only woman they loved beyond any other.


And then pubic hair showed up and fucked everything up for me. To be honest things were changing way before then but I chose to turn a blind eye.


I started to struggle when they didn’t fit in my lap anymore, when I could no longer fix them with a kiss and a snuggle.


When pubic hair appeared I could no longer deny that they were turning into men (before you jump to conclusions, I’m not this creepy mum that doesn’t know the meaning of privacy, they just tell me stuff). And that was only the beginning, he brought his mates arm pit hair, acne, stubble, attitude and independence with him.

Now they are making their own decisions (my boys, not their body hair) without needing my help. The come and go as they please, they have their own cars and are willingly putting themselves out THERE in life, ready to go it alone and make mistakes and learn and get hurt without me there to protect them.


I want to be the good mother who celebrates who they are and want to be. I want to be the good mother who is encouraging then to be mature and independent.


But I’m not. I fucking hate not being their everything.


I don’t want them to get hurt, I don’t want them to get ripped off, I don’t want them to get their heart's broken, and I don’t want to be replaced by another woman.


I feel the ache in my gut when I think of those little boys that don’t exist anymore. Being their mummy has been all I was for so long. I’m not ready to change, to let go, even though they are.


I know it’s what’s meant to happen. I did it and they need to do it too. That doesn’t mean it’s easy or that I have to like it.