There are plenty of things to love about Mother’s Day. Particularly if you happen to be a mum. Particularly if you happen to be a mum and your birthday isn’t until August, which is an everlastingly long time from Christmas and so Mother’s Day sort of breaks things up a bit. A bit of a sleep in, a nice little gift, a dinner out. It’s all good. This year was the first year I received a handmade card from Ewan so my Mother’s Day was extra special. I sat in bed eating pumpkin loaf, admiring my handmade card, and drinking coffee until 9am (gasp!). Then I purchased some shoes, had a coffee with a friend, enjoyed an audience-free shower, and went out for dinner.

Yes, very little time was actually spent being a mum, but that’s kind of how I like my Mother’s Days. Judge away.

The primary reason I like to be away from the children on Mother’s Day is that I always find Mother’s Day a little hard. Until four years ago, Mother’s Day was an unwanted reminder of the child that never was. A child who was due in May, who would have been 12 this year. And whatever those whacky anti-choicers tell you, choosing to terminate a pregnancy, even when it’s 100% the right choice, is never easy and stays with you until the end of days. Even when you have children later on. So I was a little blue today, without really meaning to be.

But after dinner out with A. I came home and went to check on the children. And they are just so freaking beautiful. And happy and healthy and wanting for nothing (except maybe more rocks – there can always be more rocks). And so I find myself for the very first Mother’s Day in 12 years, letting go of that first pregnancy that never came to be. I’m a happy mum of two, not a resentful mother of one, which I most certainly would have been. Baby T.O. will never leave my thoughts, but maybe I don’t have to be sad about this – maybe I just need to remember the choices made, however difficult, that got me to the happy place I am in today.

And be grateful that these were my choices, not someone else’s.