Ruined My Daughter’s Life

Blythe, love, youre turning 33 today! Im so thrilled for you and Ive got this little something I made at my knitting class, said Margaret Hargreaves, handing her daughter a pair of handknitted baby booties. Blythe stared at her mum, eyes widening. Right, youre 33 now time to think about having a family. Im not getting any younger, and youre not either. Id love to be a gran soon. All my mates are already bragging about their greatgrandchildren, and here I am, a lonely old lady with no grandkids.

Blythes cheeks flushed and the room fell silent. The guests two of Margarets friends and three neighbours all stared at her. Im feeling a bit faint, I think I need to sit down, Blythe muttered, slipping out from behind the table, trying not to show the red eyes that were burning from tears. It hurt a lot to hear her own mother constantly ticking away the clock.

Ticktock, whats the point? Why have kids when all you can offer them is a pensioner as a nanny? Blythe thought. She didnt even have a bloke she could imagine as a future dad, let alone anyone wanting to tie the knot with her.

Girls, I dont know what to do If you had sons, maybe Blythe would be set up. But youre all marrying off your daughters. The old womens corner is getting crowded! Margaret lamented.

Blythe lived in a modest twobedroom flat in a small market town. Shed never had a serious boyfriend and the idea of a love story seemed more like a romance novel than real life. She worked at the local post office, hauling parcels, sorting letters and sitting at a computer punching out parcels for customers. By the end of a shift her back ached, and shed come home feeling wiped out. All she wanted was a good meal, then to flop on the sofa, close her eyes and stop thinking about anything.

Mum, Im not up for another poetry night, Im too tired. Maybe we could find you a nice chap? Margaret urged, watching Blythe lounge like a seal on a rock. Come on, love, youre too pretty to be lying around all day.

Im fine, Mum. Im just resting, Blythe snapped.

Margaret, despite being in her late sixties, was a whirlwind. She juggled community centre concerts, trips to the county town for activist meetings, poetry readings for other pensioners, and still somehow found the energy to organise bake sales. She could have raised grandchildren in a heartbeat, but Blythe simply didnt have that stamina.

Undeterred, Margaret kept shaking those bright red booties in front of her daughter, hoping the sparkle would spark some sense. Blythe, love, listen youre an adult now, think about kids! I want to see my own grandchildren before I kick the bucket.

Honestly, Mum, Im not sure I even want to think about that. My job is hard, my pay is tiny, my back hurts, and theres barely room for the two of us. Kids? No, thank you! Blythe retorted.

Exactly, Margaret sighed. You could change a few things stop living only for work and the sofa. I was just at Mrs. Charlotte Whitakers the other day; her little grandkid is brilliant.

I get it, Mum, Blythe replied sharply. But I cant just get pregnant because you want grandkids. Id need to get married first, and look at my track record theres hardly any suitors. There was Tom once, but you sent him away!

Blythe remembered a brief fling with George, a solid bloke with a welloff family. Margaret had shut that down immediately, saying he should stick to hanging out with the lads, not dating her daughter.

So Blythe stayed single until George started seeing Blythes best mate, who wasnt as picky about potential husbands. Six months later that friend had a third child with George, and they were all living happily, none of them slumped on a couch with a teacup full of sugar.

George? Yeah, you remembered, Margaret muttered, waving a hand. There are other men out there, you just need to get out of the house.

Should have done that sooner, Mum! Remember when I wanted to study in the city? You told me I couldnt survive on my own, that the streets were full of crooks. You pushed me into a technical college for a course you chose, saying techies are always in demand. I hated physics and almost flunked out in my second year!

You just didnt try hard enough, Margaret replied.

Exactly! You steered me into the most unwanted apprenticeship just to fill a class. Why waste my time on electrical engineering? Who needs that at the post office?

The post office is steady work. Its close to home, you can pop in for lunch. Isnt that a good thing? Margaret argued.

Maybe for some, but it doesnt light a fire under me, Blythe shot back.

So youll have kids, then?

No, Mum. I wont have children if I cant give them a decent life. I dont want my own daughter to end up stuck in a job she hates, counting the days till retirement.

Margarets face creased with worry. She didnt understand where the turning point had hit. How had Blythe gone from a bubbly girl to this resigned version of herself?

I tried so hard to give you a better life, so you wouldnt know want. And this is my reward? You wont even give me grandchildren! Margaret exclaimed, tears welling.

Maybe you should get a job yourself? Youve got energy, why not be a babysitter? We could save enough for a seaside break. Ive never left this little town, maybe I could finally see the world beyond the post office route, Blythe suggested.

Margaret shook her head. Where would I even go?

Even to Georges place! Theyve got money, kids, a proper life. Why not swing by?

George? Oh, love, Im not going to be a nanny for a lot of strangers, Margaret said, sitting down with a sigh.

Blythe snorted. They wont pay you a penny for a request, love. She knew Margaret would never consider working for George after what shed said.

And thats how it went.

Time passed. Margaret stopped waving the booties and focused on her own projects and community work. At a senior womens meeting in the county hall, she suddenly began venting to strangers about her daughters lack of ambition. I raised a weed, now Im harvesting the thorns, she said bitterly.

How about a proper fertilizer, then? What did you actually give her advice, a flat, a decent education? Or just a nagging voice? a fellow pensioner retorted.

I cant help my own, Margaret muttered. My husband left when I got pregnant. I did it all alone!

Why have kids if you cant provide? Youre now pushing Blythe to repeat your fate, living on a postal clerks wage, no father, no own home. Well done, mother of the year! the stranger snapped.

The words cut deep. Margaret left the meeting early, her mind racing through all the times shed blocked Blythe: forbidding horse rides, dismissing George as not serious, dictating what to wear, banning nights out because drunk men. All those rules had smothered Blythes spirit.

She finally realised shed built the very cage she now complained about. Determined to change, she went the next day to her neighbour, who knew Georges wife, and asked if they needed a helper.

Theyre looking for a nanny. Third child just arrived, theyre swamped. You up for it? the neighbour asked.

Absolutely, Margaret replied. The job was tough but she loved it three little ones, a decent wage, and a chance to finally be useful.

When Blythe heard her mum had taken the job, she was surprised and a bit relieved. Margaret stopped pestering her with baby talk and instead came home exhausted, ready for a proper nights sleep. Within a few months shed saved enough to treat her daughter to a holiday.

On Blythes birthday, Margaret handed her a single voucher. Happy 34th, love! Lifes just beginning. Take this and see the world. Youve always been there for me, now its your turn.

Blythe stood up, hugged her mum tightly. Thank you, Mum. I cant wait. My life really is just starting.

Feeling refreshed after the break, Blythe decided she didnt want to be a plant any longer. She enrolled in accounting, landing her first clients George and his wife. Their business grew, they became friends, and word spread. Soon she was handling books for several local enterprises, earning enough to travel and enjoy life beyond the post office walls.

Three years later Blythe met Stephen. They adopted a little bundle from a local childrens home, and a year after that Blythe discovered she was pregnant. Let them say its a late baby, she laughed. She knew she still had plenty ahead and didnt intend to listen to anyone elses expectations.

Everything fell into place. Margaret, now a proud grandmother of two, beamed with joy. She finally got the happy ending shed always wanted a bustling family, a cosy cottage, and the peace of watching her daughter thrive.