Missing Pieces

 

I see the photos. The milestones. The laughter frozen in time. But the moments themselves? 

 

They slip through my fingers like water, leaving only the ache of absence behind.  

I am a mother. I know this in every bone of my being. I have nurtured, comforted, and loved with everything I have. And yet, when people ask, “Do you remember their first cuddle? Their first steps?” I can only smile,  because the truth is, I don’t.  

 

 

It’s not that I wasn’t there. I was. But ADHD has woven gaps into my memory, moments lost before I could collect them. The firsts, the milestones, the tiny hands in mine, all missing from the album in my mind.  

And it isn’t just my children’s moments. It’s my own. My childhood exists in stories told by others. “Remember when…?” they ask. And I don’t.  

 

 

 

 

ADHD is often misunderstood, reduced to stereotypes of hyperactivity and distraction. But it’s more than that. Research shows that ADHD affects brain networks responsible for memory and executive function, making it harder to retain and recall moments

In the UK, diagnoses have risen, particularly among adults, as awareness grows. Yet, societal perceptions still lag behind.  

Some see ADHD as an excuse, a lack of discipline, or even a cultural construct. Others dismiss the struggles, unaware of the grief that comes with forgetting pieces of your own life. The stigma can shape medical treatment, access to support, and even self-worth

I grieve for the memories I will never hold. For the snapshots I never took. For the details forever just out of reach.  

But here’s what I do have, love that exists beyond recollection. A lifetime of laughter, even if I don’t remember its first spark.  Bonds that were built through actions, through presence, through a love that does not need memory to be real.  

So maybe I don’t remember the first cuddles. The first steps. But I remember this

 

I was there. 

 

And maybe, just maybe, that is enough.