Mother’s Day Makes Me Want To Run Away And Hide

I dread Mother’s Day. It sends shivers up my spine. For me Mother’s Day brings with it both joy and immense sadness.

I am happy that I get to share the day with my mum, one of the true great mums around. I’m not just being biased, most of my friends think she is pretty special too. I’m heading towards 50 now, and Mum has always been there for me and still is.

I love that she is both Mum and friend. I can tell her anything, she doesn’t cringe (and let’s face it, for someone her generation that’s pretty impressive).

I’ve told here things that would make a mere mortals hair curl. She is number one Mum and I’m bloody happy that she is here and Mother’s Day is a celebration of her mere existence. There, that’s the good part about Mother’s Day.

The not so good, is this very day that celebrates all things motherhood makes we want to be physically sick. It doesn’t induce jealously, not at all. It induces an all-encompassing sadness. A sadness so deep that I just don’t’ want to exist on this day.

I remember clearly my husband and I going away over Mother’s Day. We went into a café to get a coffee and the lady behind the counter pressed a piece of cake into my hand and said, ‘Happy Mother’s Day’.

I looked at her and God only knows why, I should have said nothing because if anything else I am pretty happy with a free piece of cake, instead of keeping my mouth shut, I piped up ‘Oh, I’m not a Mum’ and before I could say anything else the piece of cake was removed from my hands.

I’ve never felt so ashamed and sad. Little did she know, I had four pregnancies, four wanted, beautiful little babies had come my way, unfortunately I miscarried all of them.

I think I’ve done well, I’ve had years of counselling and I’ve gotten over the fact that I won’t have children, and I’ve been blessed with wonderful friends, god children, nieces and nephews and a fantastic network of people, not to mention the most wonderful hubby.

He who has walked beside me in grief and surprisingly we’ve come out of it stronger than ever. I’m lucky, I’ve come out the other side of this with a great outlook on life and determined to live mine to the fullest.

A friend of mine once said to me, “Our lives will be different, but just as good as the other” in response to us talking about my childless state, and she was right. My life is great, I don’t pine for something I can’t have, that is fruitless, but I embrace what I’ve got, and that’s a bloody great life.

There’s just one little day each year that’s a painful reminder of what I don’t and will never experience.

Here’s a big virtual hug to all those women who never had children, who have lost children or just desperately wanted to have a child.

To all those lucky mums with kids, enjoy your day – you deserve it.

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