Mother’s Day

So many thoughts about today rushing around my head. It’s my second Mother’s Day without one of my children and it’s unbearable, but there are still many moments of joy.

Today, I received lovely and funny cards from my beautiful daughters. Youngest was up bright and early and popped in to me with her card fleetingly, before disappearing again to catch up with friends online, uttering, ‘love you’ and my eldest offered me a card with another message that brought me to tears, thanking me for being the best mum anyone could ever wish for.

It’s funny, the stretching of the ethereal elastic as teenagers begin to find their place in the world; their own thoughts and ideas, which don’t always match up with your own.

You get to the point where you just have to hope you’ve imparted as much wisdom as you can and given them enough to work with, so they can form their own opinions, seek out the knowledge they need and go out into the world, bit by bit, with the courage to move forward in whatever way they intend and look on with quiet pride, as they shine with all the glitter of the dreams you have for them.

When I first became a mother, I knew the intense feeling of a desire to protect my children was going to stay with me for always. My own mum said when I was pregnant for the first time, ‘Once a mum, always a mum.’ She insisted I would know what that meant and I remember rolling my eyes and saying, ‘Yes, yes, whatever you say, mum!’ I was laughing, as my own mum is protective beyond anything and sometimes it can be stifling, but you know that it’s always given with love.

When eldest was born, my own feelings of becoming a mother were overwhelming and I remember being in the hospital and simply staring at her in awe for most of the night, as she slept so soundly. I didn’t dare disturb her from her slumber, so I sat on the edge of my bed and looked at her in her cot, amazed by her delicate form and beauty.

I felt the same when my son was born and my youngest daughter after. Being a mother is grounding and no matter what anyone says, you always worry. It’s innate, from their first breath to your last.

I remember having conversations with the children one day when they were small and we were talking about how long you might live. We were saying that some people live very long lives … some to 100, but some people’s lives might be shorter. They were all set on living to 100 years and we talked about how a mum’s role in life is to be there for and protect her children.

Ben asked me straight up if a mother would die to save their child, ie me? We always talked openly, so I answered honestly. I said, ‘a mother will do anything to save their child, so yes.’ He seemed to be in awe of that idea and I just repeated gently with a smile that mothers do all they can to protect their children; it’s just what you do.

When I look back now and I know what I know; and I know that I couldn’t save Ben, it crushes me, but I also know that the intent of saving him was always there and I really feel that he knows that, wherever he is now and in some small way, that gives me comfort.

Watching my girls growing up without their brother, brings heartache some days, but they are so courageous, that sometimes when I hear them giggling online with their friends, or when eldest is nattering away on the phone to one of her buddies, I am so proud to see them shining their lights and navigating their path in the best way they can. It’s all I can hope for.

In recent days, we have seen and heard about the importance of girls and women being protected and being allowed to feel safe and supported by society, especially when out by themselves; and I hope as my girls grow up, this is something that comes to pass. I am aware that there is another newly bereaved mother; a newly bereaved family, who have lost a child this week. It may be under different circumstances, but I stand with the families of the bereaved, whether through cancer, long-term illness, or in sudden horrendous and unforeseen circumstances. It fills me with emotion, that this is the world our children are growing up in and something needs to change on so many levels.

When I think about the extraordinary conversations I had with Ben about life after his transplant, once he was home, I could see flickers of the young man he was going to grow up to become. A protector; a gentle lion, a warm-hearted and generous soul.

I feel that Mother’s Day has altered for me and many other bereaved parents, in more ways than one. We are a family of five; always. We do our best to guide our living children, while honouring those who have gone on to have adventures of their own in the multiverse somewhere.

I can’t stand injustice. I can’t stand it.

I feel like the tiniest voice in a sea of voices. I hope you can hear me.

Grief changes your views. It’s alters your landscape. It crushes your heart and leaves you swimming in a sea without land.

Grief breaks open your heart, too. It opens you up to a more spiritual view and opens your eyes to all that is wrong and all that needs to change and all that is light and full of opportunity and beauty. It all seems so simple, yet the weight of the sadness can be so much to carry when you are trying to simply exist, while wanting to change the madness.

On this Mother’s Day and every Mother’s Day to come, I hope I can, while encouraging others, make a difference, push for change for our children on all manner of things, but initially the following two main topics; cancer and safety for our children, for my girls, in the future:

*for kinder and alternative treatments in childhood cancer - they are out there!

*for more support for children left behind

*for more support for bereaved parents

*for more education around stem cell donation to encourage more people onto the stem cell register

*for a more open conversation about grief, especially in children and teenagers, so we can offer ongoing life-long support if needed

*for compassion and non-judgement in a world where life can be so harsh

*for the bringing together of like-minded souls to ensure our streets are safe for our children growing up

*for the understanding of women and their needs and rights to feel safe in their environment and for men and women to work together; for voices to be united in support in compassion and change.

I am aware I am just touching the surface with these topics today, particularly in regard to safety on our streets for our children growing up and I know it’s different from cancer, but from a bereaved mother’s point of view, both of these things need to change. Maybe I’ll write more on another post. This all fell out of my head today at speed!

Wishing all mums, in all the forms that you take on this earth; the bereaved, the separated, the loved; all those aspiring to be mums or stepping into a mother’s role, the aunties, the grandmothers; you are all amazing. Remember that. Go gently, dear ones.

Wishing you a gentle Mother’s Day full of love and light xxx

Mum of three; Family of Five xxxxx