‘What would Anna do?’
For Father’s Day, lone parent Ed Smith reflects on life with his four-year-old daughter, Alba…
Looking up at the brightly lit moon, my daughter, Alba, smiled. ‘It’s Mummy showing us the way,’ she said, stopping me in my tracks. At four years old, it’s just the two of us.
I’d first met Anna, Alba’s mum, in 2010 during firearms training with Thames Valley Police, where we both worked. She had a unique, infectious laugh that was hard to resist.
We loved the outdoors, enjoying a beer after a hard day’s training, and were keen gym-goers.
As our relationship progressed, in time, she told me she’d lost her mum when she was 15.
‘She had breast cancer,’ Anna said. She didn’t like talking about it.
Yet despite losing her mum so young, it only made her more determined and driven. So, we spent the next few years working and playing hard.
After we’d moved in together, we eventually got a dog, travelled, enjoyed long walks… It sounds simple, but we didn’t know just how lucky we were…
By early 2015, Anna made the decision to leave the police and started working in IT recruitment. And in April 2016, we were in for a surprise – Anna was pregnant!
We were so excited, and – just as I’d expected – Anna took the pregnancy in her stride.
Then, one day, in December that year, I got a call at work.
‘I’m having the baby,’ Anna said. Panic-stricken, I rushed home.
‘Calm down,’ Anna laughed – always cool and keeping me in check. A couple of hours later at Reading Hospital, Anna gave birth to our daughter.
My life changed in that moment and I was so pleased to have my soulmate to share it with.
I worried about everything – had I put Alba in her cot correctly? Why hadn’t she moved?
Anna, on the other hand, was a total pro. ‘She’ll be fine,’ she’d say.
Despite being a terrible singer, I would rock Alba to sleep while singing East 17’s Stay Another Day.
But just six months later, in June 2017, Anna had to go to hospital. She’d been tired and her iron levels were low, then she’d woken with crippling stomach pains.
After a battery of tests, we were taken into a side room and, as I cradled Alba, a consultant told us Anna had bowel cancer. ‘It’s spread to your liver and lungs.’ She was given four years to live.
Four years.
‘Long enough to see Alba start school,’ Anna said quietly.
It was utterly shocking, and I don’t think it really hit me. I was in denial as we concentrated on Anna’s chemo, telling friends and family and trying – in vain
– to get her better.
‘She was given four years to live’
Anna was resolute and determined but found support and comfort through Victoria’s Promise – a charity which offers counselling, a support group and so much more.
Having lost her own mum, Anna wrote a list of things she wanted to do before she died to create memories for Alba. London Zoo, a family holiday, and we bought 18 jewellery charms for our daughter – one for every Christmas until she’s an adult.
Apart from Anna’s wishes, it was too painful to talk about the realities of her not being with us…
‘It helps knowing how strong your bond is with Alba,’ was all she’d say.
By late 2017, the cancer had spread to Anna’s bones and in April 2018, the doctors said time was running out. Four weeks.
We’d planned to marry in September that year, but brought it forward to May.
At Shaw House, Newbury
Registry Office, Anna looked stunning in a Jenny Packham dress. It was a wonderful day filled with love – not sadness – and Alba was the prefect flower girl.
We managed to have a three-day honeymoon in a campervan – another thing on her bucket list – on the Jurassic Coast.
A day later, Anna went into a hospice. She cradled Alba at every possible moment when she was strong enough. She sent me a list of all the things I needed to know about the house, the mortgage, the washing, the admin… all the things she just got on with.
On 7 June 2018, the last thing Anna said to me was: ‘Tell Alba she can be whatever she wants.’
She died with her dad and me by her side. She was 38 and Alba just 18 months old.
When I got home that night, it hit me. I fell apart. The
unfairness seethed through me. But I had to get out of bed each morning to raise our beautiful daughter – who is the spitting image of her mum.
We held Anna’s funeral and she was incredibly loved, which helped give me strength. Alba and I found our feet, and as per her mum’s wishes, I got Alba some chickens. A cat named Marmalade will eventually join us too!
I missed Anna all the time, especially when Alba was asleep, and often wondered if I was making the same parenting decisions she would. ‘ What would Anna do?’ I constantly asked myself.
It’s tough, doing it alone, but my love for Alba keeps me going – and the promises I made to Anna.
We talk about Anna daily. There are pictures around the house, and believing her mum is up on the moon, Alba wants to be an astronaut when she grows up. Although she’s interested in being a teacher too.
Solo parenting is exhausting, but watching Frozen for the umpteenth time, painting Alba’s nails and playing with her doll’s house is a privilege.
Now, at 37, I’m not interested in meeting anyone else. It’s Alba and me now. I’ll be the proudest parent when she starts school in September – I know Anna would have been too.
I’m working with Victoria’s Promise and will be rowing across the Atlantic in December to prove that Alba can do anything – and be anything – she wants. I hope we’re making Anna proud.
For more info, see annavictorious.co.uk