Diary of a Thriving Mum

Friend: So, how are you really doing? beyond what people see on social media. Ife, How are you?

Me: I am....

Grieving!

I went from being married to becoming a mum to being separated—all in the span of a year. Talk about a crash course in life, huh? LOOOL. One minute, I was dreaming about our future, and the next, I was standing in the wreckage of a marriage I barely recognized, holding a baby in my arms and a man I no longer had words for.

Betrayal. Hurt. Confusion. It was like watching my own life unravel in slow motion, but being too numb to even react. Me—the girl who laughed easily, who found joy in the simplest things—was suddenly empty. I didn’t even realize just how much until one day, I was cooking, and the steam from a pot had burned through my top and onto my stomach. And guess what? I didn’t feel a damn thing. Not until I looked down and saw the mark. That’s when I lost it. Not because of the pain—because I couldn’t even feel it. How did I get here? How did I, a girl who once felt everything so deeply, become someone who couldn’t feel at all?

And the craziest part? I was desperate for closure. I needed to know why. Why he did what he did. Why he hurt me like this. Why everything crumbled. And so, we had one last call—the final conversation that was supposed to give me answers and I silently hoped for a genuine apology, but only left me more angry. I had planned to start from the beginning, to untangle every knot, even the absurd “baby formula” argument that somehow became the tipping point of our entire marriage. Yes, you read that right. BABY. FORMULA. But that’s a story for another day.

I asked him to be honest, we went back and forth, so I could at least make sense of the madness. And do you know what this man said? “Ife, you assumed it happened.”

EXCUSE ME?!

Like, the betrayal wasn’t bad enough, but now I had to be gaslit on top of it? LOOOOL,i guess it must be my postpartum depression talking, right?! What do you mean by Ife, you just assumed it! I shouldn’t have been surprised, I mean this is the same person who joined Tinder a week after I gave birth but was mad at me for being upset and quiet about it. He said “it’s not a dating site, it’s like Facebook used to meet new people and make friends” Guess what- I almost believed him because I was going crazy.

And in that moment, something inside me snapped. Who the hell did I marry? Who was this man I said “yes” to? How did I allow this person to become the biological father of my child? How, Ife?! How?!

When the Bible says, “A broken spirit dries the bones,” I finally understood. I was disappearing.

Then one day, Phoebe went to daycare, and for the first time, I was alone. Completely alone. No tiny hands reaching for me. No one asking me for anything. Just silence. And in that silence, I realized I had never properly cried. So I locked every door, shut every window, and I wept. Oh, I wept. For hours. Until I was too weak to sit up, too drained to move. And still, it didn’t take the pain away.

And look, I won’t sit here and pretend I’m fine. LOOOL. Tonight is one of those nights. The kind where the loneliness creeps in, settling into every crack and crevice, whispering all the things I try to block out. So I write. And write. And write. Until the words run out.

Believing…..

But here’s the thing—I still have hope.

I believe God!

He told me that my best days are still ahead!

He told me this will be worth it!

He told me that I am made for such great things!

I believe that He won’t just heal me, but that He will make me become a source of healing for others. That my story won’t just be one of heartbreak, but of redemption. That I’ll laugh—really, truly laugh—again. That I’ll be more than okay. My peace will be restored. That I’ll love, deeply and fearlessly.

That I’ll be me again.

And when that day comes, ohhh, I will celebrate. I will rejoice. Because this is not where my story ends. Not even close.

I am just getting started!

XOXO Forever,

Ife