In the cool breeze of the tropical morning, mothers in our village rise before the call to prayer, they are up long before the sun. Mothers bend, their soft brown foreheads touching the thick woven carpet of the prayer mats as they whisper to their god. Mothers prepare food, they sweep, they gently wake children, rousing them to be ready for the day. Mothers then strap babies to their backs and work in fields, bending low and tending to the rice that will feed their family for the coming months, hoping this harvest there will be enough to sell. Mothers work on the beach, pulling in fish or renting tubes to tourists who are living lives they can only dream of. Mothers work in kitchens, the soft brown of their hands skillfully chopping, grinding and frying food that they will carry on their heads to sell.
In my own village house I start the day with babe in arms, Bo’s face close to mine, her hot breath on my skin and her sweat mixed with mine as we lay under the fan. When Bo wakes, so do I… we start the day when we are ready. I work when Bo naps, my days structured around her needs, while she is awake she has my full attention.
All around the world mothers rise and fall with the tide of the day, finding the time to love, to clean, to feed and to nurture their children, their families and their communities. Whether they run multi-million dollar corporations or iron another families clothes, mothers work hard, day and night… giving all of themselves
Mothers day is a special day to me this year, because it’s my very first. And this new journey into motherhood for me has made me appreciate my own mother more than she has any idea. My mother sacrificed for me, she gave to me, she nurtured and loved me and held me throughout my childhood, my teenage years and still now in adulthood. Regardless of how different my mother and I are (and we are worlds apart at times), regardless of the disagreements (and there have been many), whenever I am sick or sad or tired, she is the one I want by my side. When I am full of joy and pride and happiness, she is the one I want to celebrate with me. As a child she guided me the best she could, and as an adult she supports me. She was witness to the birth of Bo and as honoured as she was to be there, I was honoured to have her there. Motherhood is a very precious gift.
A mothers love is 3am feedings, long nights of gentle cuddles, worry, unbelievable joy and tears for every reason and no reason at all. there is nothing to compare it to and there are few joys or heartaches in the world that could possibly come close. Becoming a mother has changed the very fabric of my being. It has changed the way I think, they way I talk, the way I act. It has changed what I eat, what I drink and the colour of the world. I am no longer the most important person in my own life. Words can’t begin to paint a picture of how that truly feels.
So for all those mothers I know who are celebrating their first mothers day through the wave of exhaustion, vomit, bleary eyes and hormonal outbursts that new motherhood brings, for those who are seasoned mothers, for my sisters and my aunts… for every woman who has held their child and known the incredible joy and fear and awe it brings… for all the women who are yet to be mothers but hold their future children already in their hearts, and most of all to my own mother..
Happy mothers day, I hope you all have a wonderful day that is filled with love and joy and happiness and inked from head to toe in colour.
Love you mum xo