Why I’m finally OK with being an imperfect mother

As her twins turn 21, Trish reflects on the long journey from fertility treatment to adulthood, & what she’s learned along the way

I’ve been around the block long enough to know that when the universe sends you a message, it can come in any shape, form or size but I hadn’t expected one to appear as a giant Moonpig card. This week my twins turned 21, both are away at university so a I put together a package with balloons, little treats and gifts, parcelled up with cards from friends and family to send to them to open on the big day. To make them feel loved and special (which they very much are) - and give their friends a laugh - I also created one of those photo cards with lots of pictures of them from tiny babies through to troublesome teens and beyond.

Retrieving a huge box of photos from the loft, I took a deep breath and braced myself for the usual feelings of guilt and anxiety that always take hold when looking at pictures of my son and daughter from those early years. Despite their smiles and happy faces, my brain conjures up screams, tears and endless demands - the berating soundtrack to my first years of motherhood. Feelings of inadequacy and ingratitude for this most extraordinary double gift resurface to hit my gut like a one-two punch.