In those years my relationship with my mother grew strained. I lived with my husband and didn’t visit them an awful lot, and when I did our conversations were awkward small talk, hardly the things I really wanted to say.

You might think it’s not hard to just ask people questions. Of course you would. Things had changed a lot since Mum and I were children. The world my children would grow up in would be drastically different. I came to believe that I was going to be the mom who didn’t hide anything from her kids. I thought I was going to be everything my mother wasn’t; vocal, open. In my head it made sense; if I told my daughters anything they wanted to know then I wouldn’t be keeping secrets from them, so there wouldn’t be any need for distance.

But I was still young and hadn’t lived all that much yet. I wasn’t a mother yet myself, and I had no idea who my own mother was before she had me. No idea of the significance of her silence.

It was around the time my first daughter was born when Mum and I started talking again. I was thirty and pregnant and wanted life advice from my mother. Motherhood changes you; moms aren’t kidding when we say that. It softened me up, made me consider things from a different angle.

I’d spent so much time being angry at my mother for keeping her distance, when ironically I’d been doing just that. When you’re about to become a mother you realize that the world isn’t necessarily your enemy. You want to find people who will help you, care for you, and share your emotions, good and bad, as you raise your child.

Mum came to see me at the hospital when I went into labour. She waited outside in the hall with Dad and my in-laws, my husband staying with me right up till the end.

Our daughter was a beautiful little thing. I felt joy spark in my heart and flood through my body. Mum came in to see me shortly after with the rest of the family, meeting the newest addition to the family in small groups. Everyone loved my daughter the moment they laid eyes on her. I mean, who wouldn’t? The miracle of life is something that happens every day, but not everyone gets to see it in its glory.

After I was discharged from hospital and went home with my daughter I spoke to my husband about patching things up with Mum. He was ever the gent, listening to me rave about how angry I’d been at her, and about all the things I should’ve said to her but hadn’t. He listened quietly, holding our baby girl all the while, a most calm expression on his face.

When I’d finished he thought about it, then suggested, “You should talk to her now. It’s been a long time, but it’s never to late as long as you’re both alive.” I knew he was speaking from experience then. His own father had passed away a few years ago, and although my father-in-law didn’t have the same secrets Mum did I’m sure my husband had things he wished he’d asked.

“Alright,” I agreed at last. “I’ll talk to her.” Then my husband kissed me and kissed our baby girl before tucking her in to bed.