motherhood

Rick’s gift to me yesterday for Mother’s Day (on behalf of the boys) was a fifteen minute sleep in. That’s worth about five hours in the world of early parenting. Boy was I grateful.

He brought all three boys into the bedroom to wake me up.

Through bleary eyes, I saw Pete’s head bounce up and down beside my side of the bed as he mumbled “mum, mum, mum, mum, mum…”

Next came Rick in his dress gown with James in his arms looking rather curious with his eyebrows slightly raised (one of his signature looks, I might add).

Then I detected Angus’ rather tall silhouette approaching at the end of the bed as he wished me, “Happy mother’s day, mummy!”

I don’t think I could’ve asked for more.

But Mother’s Day is not always a joyous day for everybody.

There are many whose mums have died, many whose mums are unwell, many who are separated from their mums, many who long to get on well with their mums, many who have lost little ones to whom they were mums and many who long to be mums themselves.

I still remember my first Mother’s Day, which was filled with much heartache and grief. We had lost Cameron only eight months earlier, and the pain of being a mum without her child was more than I could bear. The flowers and cards on that day from family and friends who remembered that I was a mother were utterly precious to me.

So let us think of those for whom Mother’s Day is a difficult and painful day.

And let us let them know that we are thinking of them, and that they are not alone.

(The flowers above were from my beautiful friend Megan on that first Mother’s Day…)

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