What it means to me to be a mother

“Is daddy going to be ok?”

“I don’t know. I can’t promise you that. But I can promise you that the doctors and nurses will do everything they can to try to make him ok.” 

This is a conversation that took place at 4:30am shortly after my husband had walked down the stairs to a waiting ambulance accompanied by three paramedics. The severity of that moment will stay with me for the rest of my life. I had a choice with how I responded to her. Lie and pretend everything was going to be ok or admit that I didn’t know what was going to happen. In the split second it took me to make that decision, I opted for honesty. For whatever we were going to face over the coming days, weeks or even months, honesty would get us through.

I won’t lie. There’s been a lot since I became a mother that I’ve not been prepared for. But that conversation was hard. No-one prepared me for that conversation. No-one then gave me a manual to help me prepare for having to tell our beautiful little girl that her daddy was going to die. No-one prepared me for helping her through her grief. No-one prepared me for how much of a fierce mama bear I would become in the weeks and months that followed.   

Because since I became a mother I’ve always tried to protect her in whatever way I can. I’ve always tried to stop her feeling hurt and to try to put a smile on her face. Yet since Mr C came down with his temperature on 22 March (Mother’s Day) last year, I’ve seen how broken she can be. Yes, she’s been phenomenal. I am reminded on a daily basis of just how phenomenal she is. I simply wouldn’t still be standing without her by my side.

But she’s also a little girl who has gone through the most excruciating loss. I’ve seen her eyes lose their sparkle. I’ve watched her fall apart. And when you’ve watched your child go through this pain and all she has gone through, you want to do everything in your power to stop them ever feeling hurt again. You’re prepared to take on anyone and anything that causes them disappointment or angst.

I know it will be impossible for me to do that totally. Because I’m acutely aware that she will feel hurt. One day it’s inevitable that someone will break her heart. It’s almost a rite of passage and something she will need to go through in life. All I will be able to do will be to pick up the pieces and hold her until the hurt subsides a little.  

And so today, on Mother’s Day, I’m pausing to reflect on my role as a mother. To reflect on the promises I made to myself the day my husband died. That I would continue doing my best for our daughter. That I would try to protect her as best I could. That I would fight her corner for her whenever needed. That I would teach her self-worth. That I would teach her to never give up.

It’s been my hardest year as a mother since Mother’s Day 2020. It’s been the steepest learning curve of my entire life. But it’s been a year that’s taught me so very, very much about just what it means and what it takes to be one.