Mother’s Day is hard.

I knew it was coming. All the pink cards in the shops. All the schmultzy ads that sneak in via email. All the pairs of pyjamas I don’t need but seem suddenly very essential….Mother’s Day.

Just the name of the day creates a myriad of feelings and thoughts. I’ve always treaded fairly carefully around this day. My mum was not a fan. The day was filled with a sense of obligation. It never seemed about celebrating motherhood. It was about being in the right clothes. I recall a blue velvet dress with a white collar and black patent leather shoes. It was about being in the right place. I remember one year it was at ‘Leonda’, a very posh venue on the banks of the Yarra in Melbourne. It was about being at the right time. Did they always have ‘sittings’ for a Mother’s Day luncheon? I think we might have been late that year.

The year my Nanna died and my mum was now the senior and most important mum on Mother’s Day, I was away on my honeymoon. And though I wrote a reminder note to call her, it really wasn’t a big deal to her. At least that’s what she said.

Ten years later and I’m the mum of a gorgeous ten month old and suddenly this celebration has a new depth of meaning that I want to participate in. Now my mum is Nanna and she really doesn’t want to repeat the sins of the past, so trying to organise a family Mother’s Day event was, let’s call it…a challenge.

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You don’t have to do this for me.”

“I don’t need a Mother’s Day lunch.”

So finally, I let her know that it’s for me. I’m the Mum! I want to celebrate Mother’s Day.

And though she got on board and was lovely and proud of me for the mum I was and, for every year that she was still around to see me be, the mum I became, I still wonder why… why is Mother’s Day so hard?

Is it just me? Or do you feel it too?

This year she’s gone. She died last September. I know she’s free of her feeble failing body. I knows she’s free to dance now but I miss her. I even miss hearing her tell me that Mother’s Day is no big deal. I miss getting her something anyway. And I realised yesterday. I went to buy candles for my sons to give me. Ones I know I like, just in case…. and I thought, just for a moment, Ooh, I’ll get one for Mum. But I didn’t need to get one for her. I don’t need to buy my mum a present this year. It’s sad. I’m ok, feeling sad about it is a pretty normal feeling to have.

So now here I am, writing on the night before Mother’s Day. I’m writing my blog. Oh my goodness, Mum would be so proud of me. She knew, I love to write. She knew, I love the processing opportunity writing brings. She would tell me how brave I was to doing this.

Tomorrow morning I will wake with my two sons here. They might make me breakfast, they will definitely give me nice candles and I will be their Mum. No matter what else happens, I will still be their mum, their brave mum. After all my Mum told me I was brave, pretty sure she’s still saying, “She is still brave!”

Thanks Mum.


Author: sheisstillbrave

I’m Sarah, and just like you, I’ve had to be brave. So here we go. My stories, my journey, my laughter and my tears might all rate a mention. But most of all, if I look in the mirror, I want to remind her, She is still Brave!

6 thoughts on “Mother’s Day is hard.”

  1. You’ve been on my mind today my friend, with the day of Pink Schmaltz looming over us.
    You’re not alone, I feel it too. It is a hard day for lots of people.

    This reflection is actually really lovely, I agree with you about the sense of obligation the day brings, and that feeling sad – the antithesis of all those cheerful perfect mumsy ads – is okay.

    We just gotta get through it, remembering that love isn’t shown in giving overpriced flowers or hastily wrapped chocolates, or fancy patent shoe luncheons… it’s all the other days that matter most.

    We got lots of those.

    Nettie xxxx


  2. You have too my beautiful friend. So much to write about. I scrawled a quick 1000 words or so last night in my Wonder Woman journal. So many possible tangents to follow. I guess I could call them other topics. Future topics.
    Early days yet.
    Love ya guts


  3. My mum’s gone too. This morning it rained. But now we have sunshine and the quiet swoosh of Sunday traffic. I’m lying on the sofa, writing. For me …and also to you. Writing really is so good isn’t it? Welcome to blogging. I’m going to love reading your blog, thank you for sharing your words here.
    Here’s to our Mums.


  4. Not sure if my last comment went through, so I am reposting.
    Just want to tell you that like you, I’m doing Mother’s Day without my mama. Sending your heart some solidarity.
    Thank you for blogging. I love your heart and your words and I am so looking forward to reading your blog! Writing is so good.
    WElcome to the blogosphere!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you Rachel
      I’m so grateful for your encouragement and your heart solidarity.
      Blogging solidarity is also amazing. Like leaping into a whole new universe but everyone speaks a similar language and I can understand too. Pretty amazing.
      Cheers Sair


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