I get how you’re feeling today. I do.
I was in your shoes last year.
You dread the build up to this day. With the shops putting their merchandise and stock out earlier and earlier, you’ve had to avoid certain aisles when you do your weekly shop.
Choosing a card for your own mother stings your eyes because when you read the words as you’re making your choice you long to have those poetic phrases written in a card destined for YOU.
Taking your own mother out for lunch on Mothering Sunday is a guaranteed afternoon of suppressed emotion so you don’t bring the mood down for everyone else who are enjoying themselves.
You spend the day avoiding social media so you don’t have to see your newsfeed flooded with gushing posts and pictures of gifts with hashtags like #blessed #luckymum or #ilovemychildren.
You long to have your own husband or partner head out with your kid the day before to choose a sentimental card, bright bouquet of spring blooms and a thoughtful gift.
You want to be presented with breakfast in bed and be told to put your feet up for the day because this is Mother’s Day, a day when father and child spend the whole day showing you how much you are appreciated for all that you do.
You want the World’s Best Mum necklace/ring/Pandora charm/mug/teddy/photo frame. You don’t care how tacky or cliched or mass-produced it is.
You want to be part of the club. You want to feel included.
You don’t want to be patronised as a cat/dog mum anymore, as much as they are your surrogate children and you love them. You want to be respected as a REAL mum now.
I get it all. I honestly, truly do.
I was in your shoes last year. I didn’t spend the day with my mum or family. I spent it at home with Dave, crying on and off all day, counting down the hours until the day was over and Monday could begin. The only time I’ve ever looked forward to a Monday for fuck’s sake.
I knew that if I had to endure another childless Mother’s Day next year I would probably get severely depressed. Or flat-out-drunk by 1pm just to cope. But Dave and I kept talking positively. Can you imagine if by this time next year we have our own little Cub in bed with us, or we’re pregnant? All this suffering will be worth it won’t it?
And it’s true. It is worth it. I woke up this morning to a cuddle from Dave, with his hands on my 31-week bump feeling Ollie kicking away, wishing me a happy Mother’s Day and bringing me breakfast in bed with a sweet card and bag of gifts from our unborn son. It was wonderful.
You never know what is around the corner in life. You may be a mum by this time next year, you may be pregnant, you may be neither of those things.
But you are still a mum. The moment you decided to open up your heart to loving a child that hasn’t been created yet made you a mum.
So you may have spent today thinking “What if I’m still not a mum by next Mother’s Day?”
But I say, what if you are?