When you lose someone you love, it’s hard not to curl up in a ball and shut the world out. That’s what I wanted to do when I lost my father to cancer. But I had a two-and-a-half-year-old and a four-month-old baby at the time, who demanded my attention night and day.

We knew he was going to die, but life still had to go on and while my husband had to work back at home, I was at my family home four hours away with my mum, siblings, toddler and newborn. We got the call at two o’clock in the morning that my dad had passed away. I woke my children up and took them in the car to the hospital to say our last goodbyes. The hospital staff had given us use of the lounge area and while my dad lay in his final resting place next door, I fed my baby and played with my toddler. How strange it felt and how starkly parallel those two settings were. Life had ceased in one and life was just beginning in another.

It had been a long time coming, but no matter how prepared I thought I was, I wasn’t prepared for how I was to grieve the loss, while trying to be a mum to my two little people. Mothering and grieving take a lot – and I mean A LOT – out of you. I learned that the hard way. I tried to be the best mum I could be and push my grief aside. I tried to pretend I wasn’t sad in front of my children. I brushed aside the offers of help from friends and family. I tried, and I failed miserably. With a baby who was getting an A+ at staying awake at night, I was running on empty and it was showing. I struggled to get up in the morning. I was having angry outbursts at my children and my husband. I was drinking. I wanted to run away and never look back.

Then we got the worst news since our father’s funeral. Our mother, the rock of our family, had stage 4 lung cancer that had spread to her liver, bones and stomach and would eventually spread to her brain as well. Only 15 months after dad’s death and we were losing her too. It was too much to bear and I just couldn’t cope. I look back at that time sometimes in the quiet darkness of night, listening to my children’s soft, steady breaths and am wracked with guilt at how I fell apart and wasn’t there for them. I spent days, weeks in bed, I couldn’t cook, couldn’t work, couldn’t do anything. My husband stood by and was the rock I needed, gently helping me out of my depression, never complaining, always there and I am so thankful for him every day. But as a mother, you feel the guilt because you feel like you need to be the one to do everything- cook, clean, play with the kids, care for their wounds when they fall, read to them, lie with them till they fall asleep after a nightmare. I couldn’t do any of it.

I slowly learned with help from my friends, family, a psychologist, and medication to care for myself and care for my children again.

The things I learned to help me through my grief and parenting were:

To feel my grief. It is ok to cry and be sad in front of your kids. They need to see that you are human and showing emotions is healthy and needed to process the loss of someone close to you.

Let go of the guilt. It does no one any good to hold on and punish yourself for something that is in the past.

Accept the help. Better yet, ask for it. People are more than happy to help. When my friends of family would say, “let me know what I can do,” I would have a list of things. Make a meal, school pickup, have a cuppa and a chat. People want to help, so let them.

Put my phone away. I find when I am becoming overwhelmed with my problems, I spend more time on social media. I can almost feel my brain becoming foggy and it makes me grumpy and tired. I try to write down some things I am grateful for instead. They can be as small or big as you like.

Exercise. I know everyone says it and I used to roll my eyes at it but it really does help. I am not a gym fan but am lucky to live in an area with lots of bush and trees so I love to strap the baby in his carrier and go for a walk. I like to go slow so the aim is to move my body gently and help it to relax. I touch the trees, the leaves, flowers, the earth. I look up at the sky. I point things out to my baby like a bird, a snail. The little things are important.

Do something just for me. Before the pandemic, this was a weekend away by myself. Now it could be a bath, reading a book, seeing a friend, going for a walk, anything that is for me and by myself. I feel refreshed and am a better mum afterwards.

These things I do for myself are not new things. People have been doing them for centuries. I am still learning to care for myself and need to remind myself to do these things every day.

My mother was my biggest advocate. She was so full of life and happiness. She would say to us, “You need to look for the positives to keep yourself going.” She passed away earlier this year and so I find myself, again, in the position of grieving and mothering, now three precious humans. I know now to be kind to myself and I know that if I fall apart, it will be ok. My children are a little bit older now and they ask questions and want to talk about their grandma all the time, and it makes me sad but also happy that she is still such a huge part of their lives.

What keeps me going now is knowing my mum wanted the best for all of us and her strength in love and life is in all of us. We are just beginning the grief process again and I know it will get really hard but I feel I am in a better position to get through it.

I live on a bush property on the outskirts of Melbourne with my husband, three young sons and Golden Retriever. I used to be a nurse in a busy major hospital but gave it up to follow my passion for writing. I am a volunteer librarian at the local primary school and a shortlisted writer. I love reading and writing, going for walks and exploring with my children, nature, good food and wine.

Mothering Through Grief by Laura Wells