‘I want to see Daddy now’: Beautiful way Ellidy Pullin’s daughter connects with dad
Ellidy Pullin has revealed the heartbreaking way her daughter Minnie connects with her late father, Chumpy Pullin.
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In the days after Chumpy’s death, I clung to the hope that I might already be pregnant. We had been trying for a baby, even discussing IVF. In Queensland, where I live, you have up to 36 hours to retrieve sperm from a deceased person’s body. It was a process I had never heard of.
The idea came from one of my best friends, Laura, who talked to our friend Chloe about it, and they decided they would mention it to me. Despite my shock and grief, I agreed immediately: Yes, let’s do it.
Before I knew it, my family and friends were all hustling to help get it done. Chumpy’s parents had flown over and everyone was there to help. Luckily, because Chumpy’s parents were already there and were both on board, we were able to get affidavits done and all the written legal documentation without going through the court.
It was a strange time. Everyone was in complete shock, yet there we all were, signing documents with no idea what was going on. We just knew that if, by some miracle, there was a chance I could have Chumpy’s baby, the only time we could do it was now.
I didn’t have time to plan whether I wanted to become a solo mum then and there. I paid to have the sperm put on ice and parked this crazy idea for a while, as I was deep in my grief and couldn’t even contemplate the idea of doing it on my own.
I feel so incredibly fortunate that we had the resources and the means to make this happen in such a crucial time. And I know that a lot of widows haven’t had this opportunity.
After Chumpy’s accident, as soon as I discovered I had not naturally fallen pregnant, I knew I was going to try IVF. For the first time, I had a glimmer of hope. I still had to navigate through a lot of grief, but it was the one sure thing I knew: I was going to have this baby. Everyone around me said to wait a little longer, maybe a few years. What if you meet someone else? But there was nothing I was more certain of.
My first round of IVF didn’t take, but I was very lucky that the second round worked and brought our daughter, Minnie, into my life. The same doctor saw me through to my pregnancy, and I feel so lucky to have had him. I owe this whole journey to him, my mum and Chloe – but the main person I owe it all to is Chumpy.
To fall pregnant with Chumpy’s baby after he’d passed felt bittersweet – to feel excited about the future while still grieving the vision I had for us. At the same time I felt like I was given the greatest gift. It wasn’t going to be easy.
Chumpy and I always had the most incredible and loyal friends. When he passed away, that support only intensified. Our friends wrapped me in love and care, and I know that if I had been the one who passed, they would have done the same for him.
I feel so lucky to have this community surrounding me. It’s one of the biggest reasons I felt confident enough to take on solo motherhood. Knowing I had so many people in my corner gave me the strength to move forward, even in the darkest moments.
While I have the most incredible community around me, something that surprised me about solo motherhood was the isolating moments during the night. For the first two weeks, my friend stayed with me and really helped me through the night-time feeds and changes, but after those initial nights I was alone.
This was when I felt the depths of Chumpy’s missing presence the most. While Minnie was up feeding at night, I felt completely alone and it was so incredibly hard and draining. I would wake up so f--king depressed, and exhausted beyond belief.
I think what broke me during those nights was knowing the kind of father Chumpy would have been. We always had an equal relationship where we loved and supported each other, and I just think about how good he would have been as a supportive partner. I know how well he would have looked after me and Minnie, and that he would have been so f--king hands-on and all over that situation like a rash.
Struggling through these early days felt really tough, and I think it’s like this for many mums who have been through fertility issues. You are so excited for the baby, and you kind of think that once the baby comes it’s going to minimise all the challenges that come with motherhood.
And then when that baby comes and you’re feeling sleep-deprived, you’re like, Why the f--k am I sad and depressed? I thought this was just going to be the best, all the time.
When I chose to try IVF, I knew that if I got pregnant I would be doing it alone, and I felt like I couldn’t complain much – it was a decision that I had chosen to make, and I felt like I had to own that.
There is obviously so much beauty in the whole thing. Minnie looks so much like Chumpy – she has his eyes. I think it’s so beautiful. She even has this little chuckle, a really cheeky laugh, that reminds me so much of him. She is also really clean and orderly and likes things a certain way, which is him for sure.
I remember once reading an analogy about grief. The size of your grief, its loss and its impact, stays the same. If your grief is, say, the size of a football in your heart, then it will always be the size of a football.
But then your life gets bigger and grows around it. You get busy, you start doing things, and your life grows around the grief. So while it looks like the ball gets smaller, it doesn’t. It’s just that your life gets bigger around it as you grow through it and change and evolve and learn how to manage the grief better.
Time does help. Therapy helps: talking, crying, all the feelings and emotions. Let them come up. I promise it helps.
For a long time, when I was consumed by my grief, I didn’t think it would be possible for me to ever consider finding love again. It’s taken years for me to get to a point where I can even see it as a possibility in my future.
I still don’t feel ready to have anyone else in my life. I want to be on my own. I want to be with Minnie and focus all of my attention on her. Minnie will always come first, and the rest of the time I want to put my head down and bum up, and I want to grab hold of the opportunities that come my way in any of the spare time I have.
I also know that when the time comes, I can’t go looking for what Chumpy and I had. What we had was special. I will make a conscious effort so that the person I choose never feels compared to him.
From the outside, my life now looks full of fun and adventure, but I know all of this has happened because there’s a great, enormous loss that I feel in my f--king heart and bones every day. I would give this whole life back in a heartbeat if I knew it could bring Chumpy back to me, but I also accept that I can’t do that, so I need to grab everything that comes my way, despite it all.
But there’s not a moment that goes by that I don’t realise Chumpy is missing from my life. I feel the hole in my world every day.
Minnie just loves Chumpy. She calls him “Chumpy Daddy”, and she always picks up photos of him and wants to watch videos of him. She’s really drawn to the videos of him jumping into the ocean, swimming and playing guitar. She will squeal “Daddy, Daddy!”. I will often put on music, and she can identify his songs playing – she’s so aware of him now.
I told Minnie that when she goes to sleep, she gets to dream of her dad. Often now, instead of telling me she’s tired and wants to go to sleep, she will come to me and say, ‘I want to see Daddy now.’ In the middle of the night, she often says his name in her sleep, and it’s beautiful to think that he is coming to her in a dream.
Minnie has kept his spirit alive for me. Looking at her is a constant reminder that I want to make him proud every day.
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Originally published as ‘I want to see Daddy now’: Beautiful way Ellidy Pullin’s daughter connects with dad
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