Mothers Day. It's everywhere. This probably isn't the worst thing in the world for most of you and to be honest since becoming a mum myself it has definitely taken on a new light in my own eyes. It's still hard though. I am not sure if I've ever mentioned this on here before or not but my mum died when I was a baby. I was three months old and she was nearly 18. It was a tragedy. It is hard to explain to someone the grief you feel over losing a mother that you can't remember. Many people assume that it is not difficult at all. That's not true - I believe the grief is different but yes it is still difficult, it is still real and it still hurts.
I haven't lost a person that I can remember, no. I haven't lost someone that used to take me places or make me laugh, brush my hair or hug me when I was sad. Except I have. Growing up I used to dream of all those things. Of someone who would listen to me about my day at school, or watch me in the school play. I dreamt of someone who would think I was wonderful no matter what I did or said or what I grew up to be. I dreamt of a mum. To rub salt in the wound (just a little), my sister had a mum. My step-mum, she was all the things to my sister that I would've liked my own mum to be. Loving, supportive (in her own way), interested. She believed my sister to be the most amazing, funny, beautiful child that was ever made. She just didn't feel the same way about me. I'm not going to go into the step-mum saga here as it is a story for another day but suffice to say that this made me long for my mum even more. Long for a different life.
Ninety-five percent of the time my mum not being around is a non issue now. Over time I have learnt to accept it as just the way it is. Every now and then though, I wake up and instead of feeling like a grown up, 28 year old mother of one, I feel a little bit like a sad, frightened, lonely five year old who is aching for her mummy. Mothers day is one of those days.