While Mother’s Day brings so much love, joy and happiness to my heart, it also stings painfully. It brings the raw devastating ache to the surface as my heart screams out to hold, see & kiss my baby.

I often feel guilty stating how difficult or bittersweet days like Mother’s Day can be when there are so many out there who so unfairly don’t have any living children. I can feel like I’m not being grateful enough and question if I have the right to the magnitude of my grief. But I know I’m grateful. I am grateful every second of every day. I wake up grateful to see their faces and go to bed grateful that I got to kiss them goodnight. Every waking moment i have a little voice in the background that says “I’m so lucky to have them” and I’m down right terrified of them dying.

But no matter how grateful I am for them, I have a child who died. A child who is loved beyond words like his siblings are. A child I will never be able to cuddle and kiss or see again. Who I’ll never watch grow up. Who will never write a Mother’s Day card for me. Who’s name is slowly beginning to be said less and less (if at all) by many people. If I had 10 more living children, I still wouldn’t have him and I’d still forever want him.

As time goes on the (unrealistic/bulshit yet socially accepted) expectation to be over it or back to ‘normal’ increases. Less people understand why you still yearn and grieve. This Sunday will be my second Mother’s Day without him, but that doesn’t mean he’s missing or missed any less. It doesn’t mean he’s less of my son or I am less his mother. It just means he has been missed for a longer time. It just means yet another special day he’s missing from. It’s on these special days his absence is achingly obvious and I feel even more how incomplete our family is.

So on mother’s day, just as it is everyday, my heart will be full of love and gratitude for my three children. It will hold so much joy to have two in my arms. It will be so very heartbroken that I have one no longer here and it will desperately wish that I could hear him say “mummy”.

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