Mother's Day

It’s been a while yet again! I’ve been in a bit of a fog for the past few months, which I’ll write about in the next entry.

On Sunday, in Australia, it will be Mother’s Day. Along with this day will come all the familiar thoughts and emotions that those of us who can’t have children often encounter. The grief and sorrow, and even bitterness sometimes, and the “why not me?” and “what did I do wrong?”.

Last year I met one of my friends, who also can’t have children, for lunch. She said to me that one of the hardest parts for her is the messages that accompany Mother’s Day that suggest children choose their parents. For example, “thank you for choosing me to be your Mum.” It sounds like a lovely sentiment – but there is a definite sting in there for us.

As my friend said, it implies that there are children who looked at us and went “Nup – not good enough – I’ll head over to the drugged up, abusive couple down the road thank you very much.”

Or, perhaps even more difficult to fathom, the children who did come along, but didn’t stay due to miscarriage, picked us but then changed their minds.

This really hurts. It really, really hurts to think about.

Am I saying that people shouldn’t write this type of message on their Facebook walls? By no means. They should if this is what they want to do. All I’m asking is to be aware that friends and/or family members who can’t have children might find it difficult to read these kinds of sayings, and when they do they may feel their hearts break a little for the millionth time.

Be aware and be sensitive, as it’s a hard enough day for us as it is.

Mother's Day

There is no two ways about it – Mother’s Day is hard. As are the weeks leading up to it – all the cards to Mummy, to Mum, even to Mother and Grandma and Nana. There are reminders everywhere of that day that comes every year that will never be for me.

This year was both wonderful and hard. With the birth of Hugo we got to celebrate Zoe’s first mother’s day and it was beautiful. We also had the privilege of organizing a present for her from Hugo. He has very good taste and got her a wooden necklace. I wrote a poem as well (from Hugo) in a card. It was a lovely day.

But there is always a tinge of sorrow for me – I don’t have a child that looks at me the way Hugo looks at Zoe. This year was particularly hard because it was the first Mother’s Day where there was a baby with us – before it was Zoe, Kirby and I celebrating our mothers.

Zoe and Mum B (my mother-in-law) have decided that Mother’s Day will also be Auntie’s Day. Hugo had a special little present for me as well. I was blown away. I held it in, but I wanted to cry because it was such a thoughtful and amazing thing to do. It is true that Hugo will never look at me the same way he looks at Zoe, but he does love me and he reaches out for me and he trusts me. He loves me in a different way – and it is absolutely precious.

Kirby and I do celebrate being parents to our fur-kids though. We have five of them (I’ve put pictures with this post, top to bottom and left to right - Minerva, Frankie, Felix, Ari and Odi). We figure – why not? They are our children. This year they got me a soda-stream – but I have to admit they were exceptional naughty on Mother’s Day for some reason – fighting with each other, stalking each other (this is the cats I’m talking about), and Frankie did a freaky flying cat thing out of the front window blinds and scratched my hand (she was sorry and wanted cuddles not long afterward – I think she may have thought I was Felix who had been annoying her).

I love Hugo as an Aunt as well as my nieces Hannah and Ella and my friend’s children too, and I love my fur-kids as their Mummy. So I guess, in a way, Mother’s Day is for me too –just in a different way.