Today has turned into a bit of a day.

As I mentioned previously, the winter has made my muscles short and tight and they are not very responsive. It’s part an parcel of being me and yet it seems to catch me by surprise every year.

This afternoon, on the short walk to drop Gabby to school, I managed to trip up a kerb. Whilst holding Gabby’s hand. I had my reusable cup in my hand (thankfully closed) but in the half second I get that informs me I am falling, the ground is coming, I decided to fall, cup in hand away from my little daughter.

I landed hard on the elbow of my right side, my good side. Ouch.

I said as much.

And my 3 year old daughter said: “Mummy, what did I do?”

My heart broke in that moment. “Nothing darling. Mummy falls sometimes, it’s not your fault.”

I gave her a hug, wincing at the pain in my elbows and knees.

“Mummy, are you OK?”

“No.” I said honestly. “Mummy hurts.”

I called Kev so that he could get her to school on time, because I had a counselling appointment.

“Daddy’s coming OK baby, because Mummy has to go.”

Gabby’s little face crumpled in confusion. “Do you need a check up?”

I smiled, impressed by the way she had connected Mummy is hurt = Mummy needs a doctor.

“No darling. I don’t need a doctor.”

I limped off to my counselling appointment. Just grazed thankfully, no blood, but God, I hurt. I have jarred my constantly jarred neck again, so am in dread of whiplash yet again.

As I sat in the counselling room, I realised that, at 3 years old, this was the first time I had been alone with Gabby when I fell. I wanted to celebrate that, because Immy had been so much younger, only 18 months old or so. But I couldn’t. I felt sudden, creeping shame, because I was suddenly aware that I had been so careful to explain my differences to Immy from such a young age because she was the only one, my littlest love. I haven’t done the same with Gabby, almost assuming that by being of me and around me, Gabby would understand me because I am normal to her. But was I mistaken?

I felt anxious on the school run, scared I’d trip again, scared I’d failed my youngest in my lack of explanation. I made Gabby wear her backpack instead of expecting me to carry it. “Because, do you remember what happened to Mummy on the way to school today?”

“Mummy tripped.”

“Yes, so now Mummy has some hurts.”

“Like when you hurt your neck with the swing!”

You got it kid. Maybe my explanation wasn’t lacking after all. Even at 3, she seems to have got it.

I explained to my girls that my pain might mean my patience was less and that I was already sorry because my pain was not their fault, And Squidge said (and my God, how I needed to hear it).

“Mummy, you are the strongest person I know.”

Oh my heart. I hope my girls always know my strength comes from them.

Because Mummy will never escape the fact she will fall sometimes.

But Mummy has always gotten up again.