The Maternal Bond

My finger has been hovering over the publish button for the last hour.  Like anything in life, there are highs and lows and I feel as if I should keep everything upbeat, even when its not the truth.  At the very outset, I declared that I would be real. This is my reality and all part of the process at looking at myself and making my life better.

I am dedicating this to my daughter, who is celebrating her first Mother’s Day today.

Michaela has grown into the most amazing Mum to Phoebe  and I am immensely proud of her.   I know that they will have a beautiful relationship and be very close.  I look forward to watching it unfold.  It gives me immense joy to watch them together.

 

This day last year I spent walking in the forest with my heavily pregnant daughter, talking about the birth of my Granddaughter.  The sun was shining, the car park was full and there were families everywhere, enjoying the day.  I look back on it with a smile on my face.  I think about this weekend spent with Phoebe and feel incredibly lucky (and worn out).  She is so precious and I am grateful for her, every single day.

Then I think about my relationship with my own Mother.  It has been difficult, challenging, painful and extremely draining.  I have been told countless times for as long as I can remember that I was not wanted.   That despite the hot baths and mustard powder, I was not aborted.  And then, when I arrived, did I not only have the audacity to turn up on her birthday, but also I was not a boy. Why wasn’t I a boy?  She wanted to call me Lewis and so I had to be called Louise, a constant reminder of the disappointment that I was.

I read this back and I am shocked, even though this has been my life.

My mother and I have not exchanged words for almost 2 years.  The reason for this is trivial and somewhat irrelevant.  We simply do not get on. We never have.  Sadly, she is without a doubt THE most negative person that I have ever known.  I have lost count of the arguments.  Some very ugly.  All twisted.

Even the loss of my Dad didn’t soften her heart towards me

She is elderly and I honestly don’t think that I will ever see her again.  I am ok with that.  She will not make the effort to contact me and vice versa, and what would be the point?  I had to cut her out of my life because she caused me so much pain and that was beginning to spill over into the lives of my children.  She has lost out.  She has never met my Granddaughters.  She is no longer involved in my life and by involved I mean actively criticising and finding fault with what I wear, the colour of my hair, my weight, the tv shows I watch and just about anything else you can think of.  I literally have done nothing right. Ever.

Those of you reading this that know me might understand why I am so hard on myself.

I was supposed to be a lawyer because she liked watching them on TV.  I wasn’t.

I was supposed to be the top of my class. I wasn’t.

I was supposed to go on to further education.  I didn’t.

And so it went on.  I definitely was not supposed to be happily married and have a wonderful family.

I didn’t write this to wallow in self-pity.   Quite the opposite.  I wanted to write this as a celebration.  For those of you who are fortunate enough to have Mothers, Stepmothers and Mother figures in your lives that value and love you, then do everything you can to appreciate them, this weekend and every other day of the year.  Unconditional love is priceless and irreplaceable.  Don’t ever take them for granted.

 

 

 mothers day 

 

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