Back in the height of my IVF years, when I seemed to be better at losing babies than having them, I dreaded Mother's Day. Here was this day that seemed especially designed to ridicule me, taunt me. Remind me of all that I wasn't and all that I couldn't have.
In South Africa we celebrate Woman's Day on 9 August and Duncan would always do something extra special for me on that day and told me this was my day until such time I became a Mother, he never doubted I would.
And then the bliss of finally becoming a Mommy, of celebrating this fact. To rejoice on this day that I had waited for so long,a day to enjoy, a day to know that I was there to nurture, to love, to teach, to protect, to care for this perfect little boy. A day to remember all my lost babies and to cherish the one I have.
And now I am back in that place again, dreading Mother's Day. Another day to see other families together, other daddies sharing in their children's love for their mother. Another day to remember all that we have lost. And so I am going to ignore it and treat it as just another day.
My husband passed away on 22 November 2008 after a cardiac arrest on 12 November and was in a coma for 10 days thereafter. He was larger than life, a man of great integrity and honour. Exceptionally bright, dynamic, polite, beautiful inside and out and he has left us heart-broken. I have two wonderful boys - our four year old, Stuart James and a step-son Mitchell who is eighteen.
I am quite overwhelmed at being a young-widow and can barely accept that I will never see Duncan again. Stuart is struggling even more than me as his young mind cannot comprehend that his Daddy will not be coming back.