You know that saying, “Out of sight, out of mind”? Lately, I’ve been thinking about it a lot whenever I talk to my mum. It’s like she’s forgotten she has a daughter—not just a son. How else can you explain how little she cares?
After secondary school, I left our little village because there was nothing left for me there. I wanted more—uni, a career, a life. That’s where I met my husband, got married, and later had our baby. And honestly, if it weren’t for my in-laws, we’d have struggled so much more.
His parents helped us with the deposit for our mortgage. We even lived with them for two years to save up. It wasn’t easy, but we managed. My mother-in-law became like a second mum—she taught me so much, always had my back. Still, I wanted our own space. Not because I didn’t love them, but every family needs their own home.
Meanwhile, my actual mum? She might as well not exist. The odd phone call, but only to complain or gush about my brother. She never once asked how *I* was. But I knew everything about *him*—his grades, his new jeans, how much he’d grown over summer. It’d been like this since uni. She never cared about my exams, but you’d think my brother getting top marks in PE was a national event.
I got used to it. But when we finally bought our house and got the mortgage, I called her, excited to share the news. And what? She barely listened. Something more important was happening—my brother was getting married!
*”Oh, you should see her, she’s lovely! Aunt Irene’s daughter, remember? The wedding’s next month—so much to do!”*
She babbled on about venues, dresses, guest lists… Meanwhile, at *my* wedding, she’d called it a waste of money. In the end, she didn’t even come—said she was ill. Still think she just couldn’t be bothered.
My brother was nineteen, his bride eighteen. Where’d they get the money? Mum and the in-laws chipped in, obviously. Us? We got a *”Come if you can.”* We didn’t. Work was mad, and honestly? Couldn’t face it. My brother and I were never close, and I was too hurt by her.
Six months later, she called again. Not to check on us—no, to announce they’d bought my brother and his wife a flat near hers.
*”No mortgage! Sold Nan’s flat, the in-laws helped too—sorted!”*
Nan’s flat… She’d always said she’d keep it for retirement, rent it out. When my husband and I were scraping by with a baby in a rented place, she never once offered it. Not a penny. But for him? Gifts, support, everything.
The worst bit? When I got pregnant. I was terrified. I just wanted my mum, even for a little while. I even offered to pay her train fare—just *come*. But she couldn’t. My niece (brother’s kid) had a cold, so she stayed. Never mind that my sister-in-law *has* a mum. Didn’t matter.
My mother-in-law knew straight away. She came to the hospital, hugged me, helped pack my things, got the house ready. After the birth, she was there every second—feeding me, cleaning, taking the baby out so I could rest. I just lay there crying, so grateful. And my mum? I texted her when our daughter was born. Her reply? *”Congrats.”* That’s it. No call. No *”How are you? How’s the baby? Was it okay?”*
Two weeks passed—nothing. Then she rang, but only to boast that *”the little one’s nearly walking!”* (My niece, obviously.) I just listened, silent, then hung up. Haven’t called since. Neither has she.
Maybe it’s better this way. I’m tired of feeling unwanted. Seems she thinks she’s only got one child, one grandkid. Fine. But it doesn’t make the ache any smaller.
