11 weeks into motherhood and of course, I am moaning about sleep deprivation, weepiness and weight gain. Sometimes I am not even sure if I would have embarked on this adventure, if I had known how much our lives would change. But then I look into those bright blue eyes and sink my nose into the creases on her neck and know: this is all I ever wanted. And more.

We all have our baggage to carry, and mine includes a father that disappeared, an unloving mother and an emotionally abusive stepfather. As a result, I am not on speaking terms with my parents anymore.

My recent trip down memory lane did not only bring back memories of an unsettled childhood, it made clear how much I urge to have my own family, make things right, do it better. Of course, make it right and better first of all for little L, but also for my own sake. Without intending to make her part of it, little L plays a major role in the ‘healing process’. And I am happier than I ever imagined being.

For 31 years, finding excuses for my parents has been easy for me: They would have had their reasons. They had been young. Life wasn’t easy and tough decisions needed to be made.

And then I fell pregnant.

The thought of abandoning my child was getting more and more unthinkable, the further my pregnancy progressed. How could anybody watch children being harmed and turn away?

After years and years of yearning for the unreachable love of my mum, I cut the cord. I am not only free of a very unhealthy relationship, but also free of an incredible amount of negativity and people that drag me down.

My love for little L is growing day by day. And the excuses for my parents’ behaviour run out at the same pace that my love for my daughter grows. I don’t know if I’d kill for little L, but I would most certainly die for her. And I can only hope to be a better mum.