What Has Made Me Cheerful This Week?

Last week I missed my Reasons to be Cheerful post as I was featuring guest posts all week and I did really 'miss' it.  So without further ado, I am once again linking up with the #R2BC blog hop (this week hosted by Seasider in the City).

 

This week has been a bit of a tough one, for reasons out of our control and this results in a lot of frustration.  But as everyone who knows me, and or reads the blog, when this happens I like to try and channel that negative energy into something more positive.  I admit at times it is a struggle, but generally I get there.  What has been lovely is that my beautiful network of friends have been really supportive and that has made me feel really thankful for having the group of people around me that I do.  It has also pointed out that my husband and I really do have a strong relationship because my, we have been thrown some cr*p over the last 36 months, financially and health wise.

 

The week long series of guest posts on Appreciating Motherhood received a fantastic response.  I really enjoyed hosting the week and getting to know some wonderful bloggers and writers.  All the posts were so touching and heartfelt.  I felt most honoured to be publishing them on my blog.

 

Mother Sunday is always a lovely treat in the midst of what seems like the longest winter ever.  Although The Hubby wasn't well on Sunday so I didn't get a break from my everyday duties of Motherhood, I didn't have to cook and we spent a pleasant afternoon indulging in cake at my parents house.  I received some very sweet trinkets from the children and the most well worded card from The Hubby.

 

I also received the most fantastic email from one of my best friends.  We do not get to see each other as much as we would like as she lives in-a-whole-other-country : Wales.  However, my annual visit is next week and not only am I looking forward to a few days change of scenery and routine but my spa day that she bought me for my birthday last year.  The email was details of the package and wow, what a package.  A day at the Spa with 120 minutes of treatments of my choice.  H.E.A.V.E.N.  A whole day of relaxing, reading, eating and being pampered.  And at this precise point in the year, it couldn't be coming at a better time.  I do have to admit, I feel in need of it.

 

If you want to think about the best bits of your week you should jot them down and link up with Reasons to be Cheerful.  Read other posts and be inspired!

Guest Post : Stiches in Time

This week I have been dedicating my blog to Motherhood. With Mothering Sunday's arrival I wanted to spend a week enveloped in Appreciation for Motherhood, in all it's guises. In a series of amazing guest posts we have been hearing what Motherhood means to an array of writers. Our guest writer today is fellow blogger  and friend Mummy Plum, who writes over at www.mummyplum.blogspot.com.   All contact details for Mummy Plum can be found at the end of the article. Enjoy.

 

***

 

My mother has always been good with a needle and thread. Lack of money was the incentive that prompted her to learn to sew. She made most of my baby clothes; mop hats to shield my hairless head from the summer sun, sundresses, sleep suits. Fabrics were sourced for next to nothing from second hand stores and jumble sales. As a young girl everything I wore was created by her, made with love, either at her sewing machine or sewn by hand. The family photo album charts her creations; primary school dresses in purple and white gingham check with cute peter pan collars and hipster pockets, a deep purple dress with pink rosebuds, a copper coloured cord dress for my youngest brother’s christening, a checked full skirted number for everyday, a high collared blue blouse with contrasting floral skirt for ‘Sunday best’, and once, matching sundresses for me and for her, white with a sprinkling of tiny red roses.

The kitchen table was often spread with patterns, pins, cotton reels. As I got older, she would sometimes let me cut the fabric with her special dressmaking shears or use her special dressmaking chalk. ‘Follow the line of the pattern’, she’d say. Dressmaking wasn’t her only skill; she could turn her hand to tapestry and embroidery too. There was no end to her talents. Whilst she was working on her projects, we would talk. Words entwined with wool. It was an opportunity to have her to myself whilst my brothers usually played outside, slinging mud around the garden. Sometimes she would encourage me to try some of the less complicated sections of whatever it was she was working on; the night sky of a landscape, the grassy green of a field. Tapestry engaged me, I found it satisfying, but more so, the luxury of being alone in her presence, sharing secrets, talking together as we sewed.

Her box of embroidery silks was enchanting, almost exotic; bright and vibrant in colour. I used to love opening it and staring at the kaleidoscope within, rearranging the coloured silks to make different patterns. She’d show me the easier stitches; chain stitch, cross stitch, as she created pictures from the silken, shimmering thread. Patience, tenacity, listening, observing; all skills I learnt through sewing with my mother. The Christmas I was seven, the last parcel under the tree was a ‘special’ one, she said. Inside, two handmade nightdresses, the bodices of which had been embroidered; one with a small girl, the other with a posy of flowers. She must have spent hours stitching them late into the night in order to surprise me. I thought they were wonderful.

It was a hot dusty summer’s day when I first sought to test her skills in a different way. Riding over the hose pipe in the back yard, my bike slipped on the gravel and the handle of the brake inserted itself under my chin. My dress, patterned with delicate blue daisies, became a sheet of blood red. As I ran into the house wailing, I remember the shock on my parent’s faces and then my escalating hysteria as I heard them discuss ‘taking me to the Doctors.’ In the end, my mother didn't take me to the Doctors that day, instead I was cradled inside the safety of the spindles of the old Windsor chair in the kitchen, wrapped in an oversized cardigan whilst she pieced together the underside of my neck. ‘Butterfly stitches’, that’s what she called them.

Mum’s needle and thread have been present at every juncture in my life. Her stitches have been markers in time, present at significant turning points. Many of my happy memories are filtered with images of fabrics, be it the sumptuous purple velvet of a homemade Tudor fancy dress costume or the sweet pink floral of my bedroom curtains. In my teenage years I cared little for her homemade efforts. I wanted brands; the high street, not to wear clothes from home cut cloth. It was then that she made the patchwork quilt. Off cuts, remnants, she’d kept them all, fabric pieces from every dress, every outfit she’d ever made. Painstakingly, they were sown onto hundreds of hexagonal cardboard templates, before being joined together, by hand, until they resembled a giant piece of colourful honeycomb. Sometimes I would sit and help her, we would talk about the stories behind the fabrics, when I had worn it, or what it had made, I liked to listen to her reminisce about my earlier years. The finished masterpiece covered my single bed, a visual memoir, each fabric patch with it’s own tale to tell. A symbolic rite of passage, a parting gift from my mother, to mark the end of my early childhood years as I began my journey into adulthood.

Sewing has been a language for my mother, stitches her way of saying; I love you. She herself grew up without a mother and had no blueprint to work from when she had children of her own. At times I think she has found it easier to show her emotions wordlessly, through making and creating. A blue ribbon sewn inside the petticoats of my wedding dress, the names of my boys embroidered beautifully next to those of my brothers on the family christening gown. Most recently, an appliqued play mat for EB featuring bright and playful farmyard animals.

As we prepared to move house recently and she helped us pack, she gathered up small green and pink pompoms from various locations around my house. Once part of a fringe on my favourite scarf, but helpfully detached by my son's incessant tugging, I had kept them, optimistic that one day I would find the time to sew them back on again. After she had Ieft, I noticed they had all been restored to their rightful place, that my scarf was now fringed again. Every time I wear it, I think of her and feel loved.

Over the years my mother has stitched, unpicked, pinned and restitched me together again countless times. Becoming a mother myself has allowed me to appreciate how much. Quiet words in shared moments; small but significant stitches in time, carefully placed, delivered with deft and grace, shaping who I am today. Even though I say so myself, I think she's done a magnificent job. I'm writing it here, so I know I've said it; thanks Mum. x

About Mummy Plum

I live in London with my husband and two boys, Pip (3) and EB (3 months). Part memoir, part sanity saver, my blog charts my reflections on life, motherhood and whatever else takes my fancy. My philosophy is to celebrate the little things often. I believe a good cup of tea can make the world seem a brighter place, especially when accompanied by cake.

I blog at www.mummyplum.blogspot.com and you can also find me on twitter @mummy_plum.

Guest Post : Warrior Mother

This week I am dedicating my blog to Motherhood. With Mothering Sunday fast approaching I wanted to spend a week enveloped in Appreciation for Motherhood, in all it's guises. In a series of amazing guest posts we are hearing what Motherhood means to an array of writers. Our guest writer today is fellow Special Needs Mum and blogger Donna, who writes over at www.autismandlove.com. All contact details for Donna can be found at the end of the article. Enjoy.

***

So I'm sat here on a lazy Saturday night watching "the matrix". I'm watching the female character, Trinity, kick the ass of the agents ably accompanied by Keanu Reeves and my mind starts wondering...as it does!

 

I've always had a childish infatuation with warrior women...strong confident kick ass females like Lara Croft inspire me! I once trekked through Guatemala for charity and back packed round Thailand inspired by this Xbox boy’s fantasy. Posing non-stop with fake gun in my hand whilst scaling volcanoes and dossing on beaches!

 

A lot can be achieved through role models. Whether they are fictitious or human? Whether they are empowered artefact hunters or Jane Austen heroines we all have to have someone we look up to. Someone we can take strength from. 

 

There’s a modern day phenomenon called the "warrior mother". An army of women who have chosen to follow the strength of their inspirations and "kick ass" for their families. These women fight tirelessly on a daily basis for what is right. Not politically. Not a feminist movement. Not lobbying the government or staging protests. They are ordinary mothers living extraordinary lives within their own homes, every day. And what they fight for is their kids. And what’s right for their kids.

 

I've written before in wise words from..rocky balboa? about the habit people have once you get a diagnosis of following that with the words "get ready for a fight" and they are right but perhaps not just in the way they mean it. You see every day you fight and battle. With professionals. With schools. With ignorance and with bureaucracy. Even this week I've had my request for Jesse's assessment for sensory processing disorder turned down because she is autistic and therefore hard to assess. But I won’t give up. I will fight. Not necessarily with the professionals though. I will research private assessments and I will continue to make a nuisance of myself at the OT departments but most of all I will battle with the autism.

 

If the professionals won’t help me and if ignorance is rife. If people won’t listen then I must do it. All of it. And I will. If I can’t get the understanding and the assistance from an OT to help Jesse with her sensory issues then i must battle like a warrior and gather that knowledge myself. I must dedicate time and money into sensory play, give my time to her to help and assist her. Find out what she likes and don't like so she can calm down and find some peace from time to time.

 

If Cody needs a photograph taken of every item in the house that he may ask for to improve his communication then I'll do that too. If he needs patience and empathy whilst he’s kicking and slapping me then it’s my duty to give him that.

 

You see every day I soldier on for my children to do what’s right and in doing so I stand alongside mothers everywhere and declare ourselves warrior mothers. We may not have changed government legislation, we may not re write diagnosis journals or burn our bras in the street but behind closed doors every day we are fighting the disabilities that live alongside our children to make life better for them.

 

I don't have to change the world to be a warrior. I don't have to carry weapons tucked in my hot pants to be in battle. If every day I accomplish something within my own four walls that improves the quality of life for my kids even only for a minute then I'm as kick ass as Lara...I am a warrior mother. 

 

About Donna

 

My names Donna and I'm a mother of two children. I'm a mother of two autistic children. There's a difference and there always will be which is why I write a blog about my experiences, thoughts and emotions of being the mother to Cody (4) and Jesse-Leigh (3). In every other way we're your normal, average family..husband, kids, dog but once a week i unburden my soul at www.autismandlove.com and give people a glimpse into the life of a "special needs parent".

Guest Post : Meaning of Motherhood

This week I am dedicating my blog to Motherhood. With Mothering Sunday fast approaching I wanted to spend a week enveloped in Appreciation for Motherhood, in all it's guises. In a series of amazing guest posts we are hearing what Motherhood means to an array of writers. Our guest writer today is fellow blogger, Mummy is a Gadget Geek, who writes over at www.mummyisagadgetgeek.co.uk.  All contact details for Mummy is a Gadget Geek can be found at the end of the article. Enjoy.

***

Motherhood is a funny thing. The impending nature of it came as somewhat of a surprise to me, since the Wee Man was a happy accident – I certainly hadn’t had children on my immediate horizon, more as a far off fuzzy idea. But from the moment I learned he was growing inside me; despite, as my family and friends would say ‘not having a maternal bone in my body’ (I’ve never been one to go gooey eyed over babies and children always seemed to me like strange incomprehensible aliens) I suddenly felt fiercely protective of my invisible bump, my wriggly little peanut, and finally – my son.

I never imagined how much of an impact such a tiny little person could have on my life, but I’m so glad I’ve had the opportunity to find out.

He arrived in a rush at 11 past midnight on a Sunday morning, and once the shock of his rapid birth had worn off, I’d eaten the egg sandwich and chocolate mousse provided by the midwives, and the Other Half had been dispatched home for what was likely to be his last decent sleep for a while, I was left alone on the ward to get to know my son. The midwives told me he should sleep in his plastic cot at my side, but he was happy on my chest…and since all my instincts were telling me to keep him there, contented and sleepy, that is what I did. I will never forget that night of overwhelming awe as I looked down at his tiny restful form and realised that this amazing little boy had grown inside me, and was now outside and dependent on me for his every need.

If any other person had dared deprive me of my sleep for weeks on end, they’d have felt the force of my wrath.

If any other person had howled and screamed at me for protracted periods I might have walked away.

If any other person had poo’d, puked and drooled on me repeatedly, I might have felt disgust*.

But – despite the odd crying spell, the odd tired snap at the Other Half, the occasional overwhelming need for two minutes to myself (I am only human, after all) – what I mainly felt was a need, a desire to make sure that he was happy. Even if that did mean my clothes were crumpled and crusty and my hair looked like a birds nest. My motherhood instincts had kicked in, and although I’ve often felt I’ve had no clue what I’m doing, read conflicting advice from books and the net, and been given advice both good and bad, in general I’ve followed them and muddled through.

Even more surprising to me, just over a year after he had changed our lives for ever, I kind of felt I might be ready to do it all over again…and nine months after that our lives changed again as our daughter was welcomed into the world. Just like her brother, she had a speedy entry, but this time I was prepared and able to take in more of the birth experience. And although I’d wondered how I could ever possibly feel about someone else the way I felt about my son, when she emerged I felt the same overwhelming awe as she nuzzled my chest and latched herself on for her first feed, before snuggling in my arms contentedly all night.

As they’ve grown, their needs have changed, and I’ve had to change too. I can no longer be selfish as I once was, laying in til midday because I want to or sitting around playing computer games or reading a book. I do of course sometimes still do these things when given the chance (well, apart from the lying in – thanks to over three years of early starts I don’t seem to be able to stay asleep that long any more!) because I think it’s important to retain a sense of my adult self. But having children has also reminded me of how much fun the little things in life can bring, and although I think fondly of my pre-children days I don’t wish myself back to them.

For instance, before, a ladybird was just a ladybird. A potentially unremarkable observation as part of an unremarkable day. But my children have reminded me how exciting it can be to see a small red thing with spots when you’re least expecting it, and even better, watch the red-and-black-spotted small thing magically make wings appear and fly away.

Walking along the street singing vaguely remembered silly songs from my own childhood, I realise they’ve given me the confidence to embrace my inner child that previously sometimes hid away in fear of public embarrassment. (Although there is no denying that I was in fact fairly silly on occasion prior to my children arriving).

I’ve learnt to appreciate life more, to live in the present and not the past or the future, and enjoy each minute whilst we are in it rather than wishing the time away. Whilst with the Wee Man I was – like most new mothers – eager for him to reach his milestones, and fiercely proud each time he mastered a new skill, with Bubby D I have been much more relaxed and we take things as they come. She has just this week learned to walk, and although the sight of her beaming pleased-with-myself smile lights up my day, I also have a feeling of sadness that her independence is growing and with every day that passes she is becoming more of an independent toddler and less of a baby.

But if my introduction to motherhood was exciting, then watching my children grow and learn is more so. Every day the Wee Man tells me something I didn’t know he knew, and reminds me of things that I’d forgotten I knew too. Every day Bubby D learns a new word, and I remember how exciting the simple things in life can be. We may not have much money, we may have a messy house (although I can’t necessarily blame that on having kids…), I may have a baby tattoo where once my stomach was (reasonably) firm and (kind of) flat, and I may have permanent panda eyes - but every day I feel glad that four and a bit years ago, an action that took a matter of seconds has irretrievably changed our lives for ever**.

 

*I never before understood the ‘sniffing a baby’s bottom thing, and I was sure I would never do it. Now I do understand, and I hold my hand up guilty as charged…

**and just to clarify and save the Other Half from possible shame, I’m talking about the moment of conception there, not the actions leading up to it ;)

 

About Mummy is a Gadget Geek

 

I am a 31 year old mother of the Wee Man and Bubby D, who enjoys whizzing down shiny slides in the sun, finding hairy caterpillars, and kitting unidentifiable objects that were originally intended to be jumpers. If you'd like to hear more about us and what we've been up to, you can find us at www.mummyisagadgetgeek.co.uk, on twitter at @mummygadgetgeek and on facebook http://www.facebook.com/MummyIsAGadgetGeek.

Guest Posts : Parent With Your Heart

This week I am dedicating my blog to Motherhood. With Mothering Sunday fast approaching I wanted to spend a week enveloped in Appreciation for Motherhood, in all it's guises. In a series of amazing guest posts we are hearing what Motherhood means to an array of writers. Our guest writer today is fellow blogger the Harrovian Mama who writes over at www.samandasha2.blogspot.com . All contact details for the Harrovian Mama can be found at the end of the article. Enjoy.

***

It doesn't matter how you become a mother.  Whether it has been a long held dream or startling surprise, from the moment you see that '+' on the pregnancy test, your life changes.  Like many mothers, the moment I discovered I was pregnant, I set about preparing myself for motherhood as if it were an exam I needed to pass.  I bought books on pregnancy, on babies, on parenting and read them with scholarly fervour.  I learned about breast-feeding, swaddling and pain-relief for labour.  By the time my daughter was due, I was convinced I was prepared.  But motherhood doesn't work like that.  Sometimes, even if you do just as that baby guru advises, your baby just won't sleep.  And as your child gets older, you learn that there is no parenting book on earth that can help you stop a two-year-old tantrum mid-flow.

 

Everything in the media and world around us reinforces our fear that 'motherhood is an exam'.  That it is something we can fail or be graded at.  The way newspapers swing between damning working mothers and criticising the lack of ambition of stay-at-homers.  Everything from how we give birth to the way we wean our child is judged and critiqued.  Somehow, amongst all the conflicting data, we are supposed to make the correct choice.  A hundred years ago, parents were being told to rub whiskey on teething gums and I dread to think what historians will say about some of the current advice for parents.  There is not always a 'right' way and the experts don't have all the answers.  All these books, articles and magazines that tell us how to do 'it' - how to be a mother - we should use these as guides, not bibles.  Because at the end of the day, if you only ever act out of love, you can't go too wrong.



 

Being a mother can be tough at times, but in return for those parenting dilemmas, sleepless nights and nappy with truly unspeakable contents, you get to experience a wonderful, unique and all consuming love.  And no book on earth can prepare you for that.

 

About Harrovian Mama

 

Hi, I am the Harrovian Mama, a proud mummy of two babies aged two and under; the gorgeous Leila (2) and Harry (9 months).  Even though I am supposed to be teaching them, they have taught me so much about myself and my capacity for love.  I blog at www.samandasha2.blogspot.com and you can find me on twitter @HarrovianMama.  Always feel free to say hi!

Guest Post : Motherhood from Around the World

This week I am dedicating my blog to Motherhood. With Mothering Sunday fast approaching I wanted to spend a week enveloped in Appreciation for Motherhood, in all it's guises. In a series of amazing guest posts we are hearing what Motherhood means to an array of writers. Our guest writer today is C. Lee Reed who runs the website Helicopter Mom and Just Plane Dad in the USA. All contact details for C. Lee Reed can be found at the end of the article. Enjoy.

 

***

 

I was thrilled to be asked to write for Lynsey The Mother Duck particularly as they celebrate Moms everywhere on their Mothering Day.  I love the UK's version of USA's Mother's Day.  It warms my heart to thinking of 'mothering' my child; celebrating the act and not only the person.  During this time of year, we Moms get a lot of acknowledgement [and flowers] from our children and that always feels good.  We relish this day dedicated to our roles in life and shamelessly soak in the gratitude; while it lasts.  We have come to accept that the other 364 days of the year we are back to being 'plain old' Mom instead of 'fantastic' or 'superb' or 'outstanding' Mom.  Truth be told, even if the holiday tradition didn't exist, we proudly wear our motherhood badge as we dutifully care for our children.  It's never been about the recognition.

As the mother of a teenage girl, I find that my celebration becomes less and less each year.  As a youngster, she would proudly present her school-made crafts in the prettiest wrapping paper.  She would give homemade macaroni necklaces and play-doh vases that declared her unending love for me.  I now sustain on a quickly written card with four simple words; I love you Mom.  And I wouldn't have it any other way.  You see, I've come to realize that as our children grow, they prepare for life away from us out in the big open world.  Part of this separation is knowing that love always exists between a mother and a daughter, but that it has to move to the background in both our lives.  If not, we'd never to the next step.  So regardless of the lack of pomp and circumstance surrounding its delivery, that hastily scribbled card means so much.

Yes, I still long for her beaming smile as she hands me that Mother's Day poster, awkwardly drawn and colored, seen through her beautiful blue eyes.  I am wearing an orange dress, my huge eyes don't quite fit on my giant round head and I'm taller than our house.  The picture boldly states 'I love my Mom because she's the best!'  I don't think I've ever looked more beautiful. I vividly remember wondering how'd I ever find one more empty place for the layers upon layers of artwork adorning my refrigerator.  Now just a few small photos and magnets decorate the doors.  Friends warned me that the day would come when I'd wish I still got these funny drawings and homemade gifts... I didn't think it would arrive so soon.  I realize that this time in our life has passed and I will no longer receive such expressions.

Luckily for me, I can quietly slip into the attic, pull down that special box I've been hoarding, open it and revisit my daughter's love as shown through an incredibly large stack of oddities.  Buttons, paperclips, beans and feathers have all played an important part in my daughter's love language.  Each card expresses her now silent feelings for the mother she loves more than life.  Each object holds a special place in my box of precious treasures.

As we prepare for this years Mother's Day dinner, I find my thoughts are taken to a new place.  I have watched my daughter grow into a beautiful young women and I can't help thinking ahead to a day when she becomes a mother herself.  Oh, how I want time to stop so that I can preserve this moment together, but alas, it presses on.  I am also keenly aware of the love my own mother must have felt when she was in this same situation.

On this special day, I intend to hold my daughter close, kiss my hubby for his part in my joy and then call my Mom to tell her how much I love her.  I also have to ask if she still has her box of memories stashed away too!  Happy Mother's Day!  Happy Mothering Day!

 

About C. Lee Reed

 

C. Lee Reed hopes to change the world's perception of helicopter parenting by proving that no harm comes to children whose parents hover.  You can stay highly involved in your children's lives and still maintain a happy, healthy, loving connection.

 

Visit :

 

http://www.helicoptermomandjustplanedad.com

Twitter : http://twitter.com/HMaJPD

FB : http://www.facebook.com/HMaJPD

 

Guest Post : Appreciation and Inspiration!

This week I am dedicating my blog to Motherhood. With Mothering Sunday fast approaching I wanted to spend a week enveloped in Appreciation for Motherhood, in all it's guises. In a series of amazing guest posts we are hearing what Motherhood means to an array of writers. Our guest writer today is business women Lauren Watson. All contact details for Lauren can be found at the end of the article. Enjoy.

***

 



Well here goes ... My first ever post about one of my favourite topics : Motherhood.

Motherhood isn't just about the present for me but motherhood over the decades.  My mum, her mum (a crazy lady called Bezza), my dads mum, my hubby's mum.  All have had an amazing impact on my life from the teachings about the world, simply down to making my life that bit easier by being my child carer.  We know mothers are very inspirational people; they're knowledgeable, caring, nurturing and supportive.  They're a breed of their own.

These credit crunch years are hard for us all and who have we called of need - our mums!  They buy the kids clothes, they look after our children when we need to increase our hours at work and they're there when we need a moan.

Becoming a mother has been the pinnacle of my life so far, I am sure many of you will say the same.  I am a better person.  More patient, more giving, more relaxed.  But, on the contrary it has motivated me to get things done.  Change my life for the better, for my children.

There are thousands of mums grabbing the bull by the horns and doing the same.  Three of my top inspirations are some of the business worlds most prominent entrepreneurs, they also happen to be mums.  Sara Blakely, founder of Spanx (every mum needs control wear).  Ariane Goldman, founder of Hatch maternity wear range - it is revolutionary and Michelle Mone, founder of Ultimo bras (thank goodness for Ultimo, I thought my boobs would never look the same again after breastfeeding).  She was awarded an OBE from the Queen in 2010 in recognition of her services to UK business.  All these women have worked tirelessly to provide women with feel good products which we all need to transform us from slummy mummy to yummy mummy.  But not only are they making us feel better about ourselves they are inspiring us to reach our goals in life, business and in our roles as inspirational mums.

These women have been famous from their success but the most inspirational women I know is MY MUM.  She juggled a career and setting up a new business with looking after me and my brother when we were knee high.  My memories of this - fabulous - I was oblivious because my mum always made sure we can first, she worked 24 hours a day on call but there was always time for fun and games. 

My appreciation of motherhood is for the inspiration it has given me to stand up and be counted, just like my own mum.  So I am going to do the same!  I want my children to be inspired in the same way that I was.

 

About Lauren Watson

 

Yummy Mummy wanna be, fashion follower and style blogger at MaternityHighStreet.com.  My mission : rescue all maternity mummies from the fashion disasters that lay ahead in their pregnancy!  Full of tips and tricks to help mums look great in pregnancy.  I hanker after anything beauty and find painting my nails therapeutic.  I love making pizzas with my hubby (Big M - he's tall) and my kids, Liccle G and Flossie B in our log cabin at the bottom of the garden.  Weekdays are mad.  Weekends are all about gardening, butterflies and fresh air.

 

Check out Laurens website at www.MaternityHighStreet.com 

Guest Post : The Miracle of Motherhood

This week I am dedicating my blog to Motherhood.  With Mothering Sunday fast approaching I wanted to spend a week enveloped in Appreciation for Motherhood, in all it's guises.  In a series of amazing guest posts we are hearing what Motherhood means to an array of writers.  Our guest writer today is fellow blogger Amanda who blogs over at The Family Patch.  All contact details for Amanda can be found at the end of the article.  Enjoy.

***



When I was a child, there was one thing I knew for certain and that was that when I grew up I wanted to be a mum. I think I was probably born with a fully intact and activated maternal instinct, but it really kicked into overdrive when my own mother began childminding when I was 9. Suddenly, I couldn't wait to grow up and one day have kids of my own.

As I grew older, however, I began to realise that it might not be as easy as all that. I was diagnosed with Endometriosis at the age of 21 and knew that this could cause fertility troubles. I was even told that the twisting of one of my fallopian tubes could put me at risk of ectopic pregnancies. And when treatments for it became incredibly harsh during my mid-twenties there was even a point when TJ and I considered never having children.

But about a year before we were to be married, that maternal drive kicked in full force and I knew without a doubt that I wanted children. It didn't matter that practical issues might get in the way, this was something I felt far too deeply to ignore. And so a month after our wedding we began trying to conceive, and two months after that I found myself pregnant. What a shock!

At first we were blown away by how incredibly lucky we had been to fall pregnant so quickly. We had beaten the odds and were blessed beyond measure. But then the sickness kicked in. Badly. I suffered from Hyperemesis Gravidarum and spent a large percentage of my pregnancy in bed wishing I had never fallen pregnant in the first place. The one thing that kept me going above all else was the knowledge that I was expecting a child, the thing I had longed for my entire life and it would all be worth it in the end.

And it was. It was more than worth it. All the sickness and pain and worry, all the anxiety and depression and trauma... all of it was worth going through to meet our beautiful boy.

It was far from easy. Becoming a mother was so much harder than I ever imagined it could be. I never got to bloom and enjoy pregnancy, breastfeeding was a nightmare, and the sleep deprivation felt like it was going to send us insane some days. And what about that guilt? It feels like I find something new to feel guilty about every single day. But it's worth it... oh so worth it!

Because here I am, mother to a beautiful boy who astounds me with his love, his joy and his sheer enthusiasm for everything in life. Watching him grow and explore the world reminds me to see everything as new once more. I can find joy in the simplest things these days: a hug, a smile, even a cardboard box...

But more than that, being a mother makes me want to be the best I can be. It makes me want to face my demons and reach my potential, so that through example I can help my son reach his. It makes me want to do more for others whilst remembering that to do this I have to look after myself too. Gone are the days of burning the candle at both ends for something meaningless... these days I do it for my family and no one else. Or at least I try!

This is what I like to call 'The Miracle of Motherhood'. It is so much more than I can express in words. It is everything I have just written and much, much more. It is greater than anything I have ever experienced and something I wish everyone could enjoy. Being a mother is the hardest thing in the world, and yet it is the most beautiful and therein lies the miracle.

I wouldn't change it for the world (although I wouldn't mind a bit more sleep once in a while, if you're asking).

About Amanda

The Family Patch is written by Amanda. It includes all aspects of family life, from the everyday mundane tasks, through balancing work and family, to the things that inspire the entire family. Amanda blogs about everything including her health, the home, the garden and her love of photography (amateur) and crochet. Pretty much anything goes here, just like in life itself.  You can find Amanda on Twitter @amandaspatch

Appreciation of Motherhood Week

A few weeks ago I decided to really take the opportunity to celebrate the fact that Mothering Sunday is approaching.  I put out a request for guest posts, on the theme of Motherhood and had an amazing response.  The only specification I made was that the posts be upbeat in their tone.

There is a real variety of posts, from Tributes to Finding the Meaning of Motherhood - we even have a Manifesto!  I have thoroughly enjoyed reading all the pieces and chatting with the authors.

The week kickstarts tomorrow and articles will be published daily.  I really hope you enjoy them as much as I have, and they make you think about and remember how amazing Motherhood really is.

Enjoy!

LTMD 

Appreciating Motherhood Week

I am going to be doing a week long dedication to Motherhood, leading up to Mothering Sunday (Sunday 10 March) and would love to feature some guest posts.

If you would like more details, please email me on lynseythemotherduck@gmail.com.