I'm sharing a post from my PLICA blog (www.plica.com.au) as it is something that is super important for all of us who find Mother's Day (Mothering Sunday) difficult. If you are finding it tough, I'm sending the biggest hugs to you! If there is someone in your circle who you think might be struggling, please share this with them. Sometimes, something really little like a share or a shoulder or an, "I see you" can make ALL the difference to someone who is hurting.
Sometimes, it really is that simple!
So I'm dedicating this post to all of you who may be struggling now.
Every Mother’s Day is tough. It is the one enormous reminder of my losses. It’s difficult to explain, but my new book addresses the lifelong grief associated with being involuntarily childless. I think it does a better job than I can here in capturing the depth of feeling associated with losing two babies and with them my chance at becoming a mother.
I remember Mother’s Day in 2010. I was in deep, deep anguish over losing my precious IVF baby. I had just had surgery for breast cancer and was scheduled for more surgery that week because they didn’t get all the tumour. I was simultaneously coming to terms with the cancer diagnosis and also the loss of my wee precious miracle.
It’s funny in a way because sometimes people have actually made it clear to me that my cancer was pretty banal. And in many respects, this is possibly not far from something resembling reasonable – although those particular people who had chosen this stance with respect to my experience have not themselves experienced the terror of the words, “You have cancer.” Funny, that. Nonetheless, as it is often the case in times like these - we learn about our connection to people in our lives. Sometimes these connections loosen through adversity. Sometimes they are strengthened.
In my own case with the diagnosis, what added complexity to my experience and depth to my pain were the losses: the baby before, and then the terror of my Dad’s melanoma diagnosis the week my treatment finished. He was dead within the year. Not to mention the longer-term consequence of childlessness that resulted as an indirect consequence of the cancer has only added to the anguish.
I am very well acquainted with the pain that arises around Mother’s Day. I get it. If you are hurting, I get you. I feel you! I am here for you. I may not understand exactly what you are feeling or what your particular circumstances are, but I understand your grief.
From the bottom of my heart.
To Those Who Grieve
To those on the outside of this grief: this Mother’s Day, spare a thought for women in your life for whom this day is difficult. While this post is in one way about me, it is also about all of us who find this time of year difficult.
My hope in writing about it sheds light on the complexity of the human experience that lies just beyond the ‘line of sight’.
And so I send my love to everyone who finds Mother’s Day a difficult time. Those whose mother is no longer here. And to my sisters who know the eternal pain of wanting but being without child.
May you find peace and strength from honouring your grief this Mother’s Day, not hiding your truth under a bushel. For in this honouring is the sacred acknowledgement of your Inner Mother and sleeping babies who walk forever in your heart and by your side.
And to the Mother’s everywhere, especially my own beautiful Mother, may this Mother’s Day be one filled with grace and love.
Much love all x
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