This Sunday is Mothers’ Day. I know that there is a ridiculous amount of commercialism surrounding the day, but it is still incredibly special to me for many reasons. So, let’s put aside the Hallmark cards, the slippers and dressing gowns (really? That’s a good Mothers’ Day present?), and the Celine Dion CDs. And here’s why Mothers’ Day means so much to me.

As clichéd as it sounds, being a mum is my greatest achievement; and I don’t say that to minimise any of the other incredibly important things in my life. The reason I say this is because diabetes made it damn hard for me to get into a healthy enough state to even consider a pregnancy. There was a while there where I didn’t even think I’d ever be a mum.

And then when I finally managed to get pregnant, I miscarried which triggered an emotional breakdown that was dark, scary, and from which I felt I would never escape.

When I found out I was pregnant again, the fear that something would go wrong overrode the elation and joy that should accompany a pregnancy, and didn’t leave until I was holding my beautiful, bleating, screwed-up-face-full-of-cheeks baby in my arms.

I look at her today as I did on that day with wonder, and every day I think she is a miracle.

She loves me despite my broken pancreas and she sees diabetes as just another part of me. She’s grown up with pumps, needles, BGL meters, jellybeans as medicine and fingers splurting blood. But that’s just her mummy! She is more concerned by my coffee addiction (‘Mummy, have you had your coffee yet today, because I need to talk to you about something’) and she never, ever judges me*. She loves me. And that’s all there is.

And I celebrate Mothers’ Day for my own mother who is an inspiration and a guiding light. I look to her to see the mother I want to be. And I look to her when I am feeling that living with diabetes is all too much. For over thirty years, she’s lived with lupus – another autoimmune condition. We share crappy immune systems and bodies that like to attack themselves. We deal with our faulty organs and body parts with humour and, at times, despair and frustration.

She amazes me with her tenacity, her never-give-in attitude – even at times when lupus has been downright debilitating – and her incredible spunk, class and style. And she can cook better than anyone I know. So there’s that, too!

So, to my own beautiful mum:  Happy Mothers’ Day to you!  And to my beautiful daughter: I love being your mummy. Thanks for being my little girl and thanks for letting me have my own Mothers’ Day.

Mum and me earlier this year. She rocks. She really does and I want to be just like her when I grow up!


 

 

 *Yes, I know, she’s seven. The judging is yet to come.

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