“This weekend is Mother’s Day in Australia and like all other major holidays, I am starting to feel anxious.
Instead of being excited about the day, I feel overwhelmed with fear and sadness. What if this is my last Mother’s Day? What if it falls short of the ‘ideal’ Mother’s Day you see on TV? You know the ones where the children (in my case child) run into the bedroom with breakfast and a beautiful, but horribly made, card from preschool or day care.
So here I am, instead of revelling in the opportunity to be a mother and to have my son with me by my side, I’m throwing my own little pity party.
Don’t worry about wanting to slap me out because I want to slap myself out. The same thing happens at Christmas and Easter and it’s ridiculous really. I mean, I know it is, but I just can’t shake the feeling. I tell myself to think of the millions of woman who can’t have children, the ones who for many reasons can’t see their children on Mother’s Day and the ones who have lost a child and I feel so immensely guilty. Who am I to feel sorry for myself?
If I put my rational thinking cap on I would realise that the last 2 Christmases, the Easter just gone and the last year’s Mother’s Day were among the best days of my life. So why do I do this to myself?”
Then I met up with a friend who reminded me of how lucky I am to have my boy with me. Even if my Mother’s Day will involve getting up to make medications while struggling to get Aidan out of bed, it’s better than the alternative. It was the slap in the face I needed.
As Mother’s Day draws near, I am pleased to say that I am actually looking forward to the day (present head-cold excluded). I was going to bin the previous post but it is a good example of the constant battle I have with my brain in trying to come to terms with Aidan’s fragile existence.
To all mothers out there, I wish you a wonderful day on Sunday, I know that no matter what the day brings, I will.