When they say nothing prepares you for parenthood, they’re right — especially the part about having to continue parenting with someone who broke your heart.
If you asked him, he’d probably say I hurt him by leaving. If you ask me, I’d say I was pushed out — not all at once, but slowly, painfully, through a series of moments that chipped away at who I was. Moments where my needs were dismissed, where my voice felt like an echo in my own home, where the emotional bruises lingered longer than any apology ever did.
But this post isn’t about him.
This is about the version of me who still shows up, even when she’s hurting.
Because despite everything — the hurt, the betrayal, the broken dreams of “forever” — I still have to co-parent. I still have to answer my phone when he calls for the kids, smile politely during drop-offs, and help my daughters hold onto their love for their dad without letting my own pain poison it.
That’s the hardest part of all.
Co-parenting through heartbreak feels like trying to rebuild a bridge while standing on it. You’re patching holes, trying not to fall through, holding your breath as emotions rise up like waves. And still, you wave goodbye with a smile so your kids don’t carry the weight of your sadness.
There are days I want to scream. Days I want to explain to my daughters every reason I walked away, every boundary he crossed, every time I stayed quiet when I should’ve stood up. But I won’t. Because I know they’re watching. And I want to teach them grace — not silence. Strength — not bitterness.
I won’t lie and say it’s easy. Healing while parenting feels impossible some days. But then I look at my girls. I see how they laugh, how they hug their dad on FaceTime, how they tell me I’m doing a good job — and I realize I’m making it through.
Not perfectly. But with love. And that counts.
✨ Reflection
Sometimes we expect healing to come in solitude, in silence, away from the person who caused the pain. But co-parenting doesn’t give us that luxury. It asks us to share space, to compromise, to show up even when we feel like falling apart. The truth is, loving your children sometimes means protecting their innocence — even when your heart is breaking. And that, in itself, is a kind of strength no one talks about enough.
🌸 Affirmation
I can hold space for both my healing and my children’s joy. I can protect their peace while nurturing my own.
Signed,
The Comforting Mum
The Comforting Mum 
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