Sunday was Mother’s Day. I got a lovely pair of walking shoes and two handmade cards from Pip. She, with quite a bit of help from Husband, made me a bowl of cereal and a cup of tea for breakfast. I felt appreciated and happily considered how lovely it is to be a Mum.
Unfortunately, Mother’s Day is a mixed bag for me. On the one hand, it’s the day that I generally get gifts and lots and lots of affection from my daughter and that’s lovely. On the other hand, I don’t have a mother. She’s not dead. Well, I don’t think she is, although really I can’t be certain. But I’ve pretty much come to the point where I don’t think of her like a mother anymore. She wasn’t the nurturing, caring and supportive person that card adverts portray. In fact, she was such a poor example of a mother that I cut off all contact with her more than five years ago. Do I miss her? No. I really don’t miss her. But on days like my wedding day, the day I gave birth and every mother’s day, I do kind of wish I had a mother to be there. During my pregnancy, I cried a couple of times over articles in magazines about how invaluable your Mum is when you’ve got a new baby. Thankfully, this is starting to wear off a bit. I think as a higher proportion of my life has been without a mother, I’m growing to realise that it isn’t so essential to have one.
What does still hugely bother me is when people ask about it then seem to judge me as a terrible person for not speaking to her anymore. ‘But she’s your Mum!’ they’ll say. Like she can’t possibly be a bad person or if she is, she deserves forgiveness for anything she might have done wrong. ‘Do you think you’ll talk to her one day?’ they ask, perhaps with some romanticised picture in their head of the reunion, where we’ll run toward each other and embrace and all of the ill feeling will be forgotten in an instant. Sorry, it’s never going to happen. Even once the anger completely wears off, which it’s well on the way towards doing, I’m never going to forget. If I did, I’d only be leaving myself and my family open to more upset.
I’m actually going to end this post on a rather positive note. Because while I might be without a mother, I can now rationally see that this is not going to really detract from my life overall. I don’t believe that, hopefully as a very old lady, I’ll be on my death bed wishing I’d sought her out. I’ll be far too busy thinking about all of the awesome stuff I’ve done – having children, having a marriage, hopefully getting my degree, maybe having grandchildren. Holidays, special occasions, the every day moments that make life brilliant. That’s what I want to focus on now. That’s why I want therapy to sort out my issues. They don’t deserve a place in my life anymore. There’s too much good stuff to make room for such negativity. Next Mother’s Day, I don’t even want to consider the missing Mother in my life. I want to be too busy thinking about being a Mum to my daughter.