Over the past week or so, the posts and discussions in the various Facebook groups I’m in has narrowed down on today. Not in anticipation of macaroni necklaces and candles from the school Mother’s Day stall, either. Not even in a laughing, what-weird-shit-will-my-family-buy kind of way either. There’s been the expected talk about how hard Mother’s Day will be for some mamas; those newly single, perhaps, or those grieving their own mums or even their own children. Those discussions can break your heart, it’s true. And I am one of those mums who spends this day missing my own.
Always be mindful of all the feelings people will be feeling this weekend. As I said in my video, this day is not easy for all. 🌹 I also want to wish a blessed & beaitiful weekend for all the women out there on this #MothersDaypic.twitter.com/VpN3cAT0HP
But another, very common thread that I’m seeing? It’s the entirely avoidable yet absolutely predictable expectation that their partners will do nothing at all to acknowledge the mothers of their children. Continue Reading
Some stories hit the news and never really leave our collective memories. There are many, but a couple of names will always make my heart clench whenever I read them. Those names are Dana McCaffrey and Riley Hughes. Both babies were only a few weeks old when they died, several years apart, as a result of contracting whooping cough (pertussis). If their names bring a tear to my eye, I can only imagine what it would be like to have carried them, birthed them, held them in my arms and loved them.
After the birth of my youngest, my back was a bit of a mess. It was after my first baby, too, but the second one really took the biscuit. I had trouble with it early on in the pregnancy, with ligament pain. It escalated from there. By the time I hit the 41 week mark, I was in real trouble with pelvic girdle problems that meant even getting out of bed was a nightmare.
During check ups, my midwives told my my baby was posterior, meaning facing the front. “Sunny-side up” was how my eldest presented too, and I knew what that meant- hideous back labour. One of the worst things I’ve ever felt, personally.
I’m not a big one for New Year’s resolutions, or setting intentions or even picking a word or mantra.
Sometimes, however, I set something for myself. I’m not strict about it and I don’t usually make it something terribly difficult. One year it was to get myself to the dentist and I did it. Go me! Another was to stop calling everyone “guys” because, you know, some people aren’t guys and it’s nice to be inclusive.