I’ve spent Mother’s Days spoiling my mum, wishing that I had a child and last year I loved being spoilt as a mummy on my first Mother’s Day. This year I saw Mother’s Day from a different perspective.
This year my mum is in New Zealand, so we planned on enjoying a cream tea with my mother in law on the Saturday and then having a much needed family day just hubby, J and I at a local farm park. Of course best laid plans and all!
As it turned out, J’s temperature shot up to 40.6 degrees on Saturday and we called 111 as he flopped on top of me in nothing but his nappy. We spent the evening at the hospital out of hours GP clinic while they monitored him as they dropped his temperature. We knew that if it didn’t drop the likelihood was that they would admit him for the night. Thankfully he responded to the treatment and his temperature dropped, slowly at first, and then much quicker. It turned out that he has another ear infection, so they administered antibiotics and after a couple of hours we were thankfully sent home.
Yesterday, I sat on the sofa exhausted from having been up half the night and (I won’t lie) a little disappointed that we weren’t spending the day seeing J’s face light up at the sight of the animals. However, mostly I just felt relieved that I was at home with my little boy cuddled up in my arms and my hubby looking after us. Relieved that he had a short term, easily treatable illness. Relieved that we were together.
I often spend Mother’s Day feeling sorry for the children who have lost their Mother’s. Those for whom Mother’s Day brings pain as they wish they still had their mother to celebrate, to buy a card for, or to spoil at the spa. Having lost my father, I suppose that this is the suffering I relate to easily. I’ve also felt for the women wishing that this year was surely their turn to be a mother, those struggling to conceive, or who are not in the right circumstances to have a child despite desperately wanting one.
But this year my thoughts fell in a different direction. I’ve never really thought about the Mothers who weren’t enjoying their own special day as they should because they were sadly holding their child’s hand in hospital or tragically visiting a grave. For those in war zones or migrant camps worrying about the life their child is going to have. My nan only survived just over a year after her first born (my father) passed away. I, for the first time, wondered how she must have felt on the one Mother’s Day where she was missing one of her children.
Mother’s Day can be a wonderful time for many to feel appreciated for all the hard work they do everyday, but for most it is also tinged with sadness of various degrees and this is something that I will never forget.
Every day, I feel a gratitude that words cannot express that I have my little boy, but this Mother’s Day I felt grateful that we were sat at home on the sofa just my little family, together, the way it should be. I didn’t need flowers, or chocolates, or a day out at a farm park. I am a mother and all I need to celebrate that is my son.