A woman’s first Mother’s Day as a mother should be a happy day. It should be filled
with family, joy and maybe even a gift or two if you’re lucky. I remember eagerly
anticipating Mother’s Day 2013 – my first baby was to be three months old and I
could finally stand up in church when they acknowledged all the mothers. I was
excited, I was joyful.
And then my baby died.
My daughter was stillborn at full-term in January 2013 and Mother’s Day that year
became a day to dread. The merchandise in the stores made me feel physically ill and
I turned away if ever I saw a Mothers Day advert on TV.
I couldn’t help but wonder if my family and friends would include me when they acknowledged the mothers in their lives, and I certainly didn’t want to be in church when they asked the mums to stand up or raise their hands.Would people look at me? Should I stand? Did people still think I was a mum? Many questions swirled through my mind whenever I thought of the upcoming day.
As the day approached I became more and more anxious. I didn’t know what I wanted
to do and I didn’t know how I would cope. So I did the only thing I could think of that would help: I ran away!
My husband and I had been given some money to spend on a holiday when we felt we
needed one. And boy, did I need one on Mother’s Day weekend! We booked a room
at a fancy beachside hotel, planning to spoil ourselves a little and hopefully ease the
pain of missing our daughter. Not only would I not have to face any people I knew,
but I could also order room service if I really didn’t feel like seeing anyone.
It was the perfect thing to do. I came down with a horrible cold the day before
Mothers Day, but at least I was sick in a beautiful room with food being brought to
me! I still missed my daughter, but at least I had the space to miss her in my own way.
A short getaway was just what I needed – it meant I had something to look forward to
on a day I was otherwise dreading.
And for the record, we went to church that night and I raised my hand along with all
the other mums. My baby may have died, but she still counts. Just like your baby.
Larissa is a wife to Marcus and a mother to two beautiful children – Ariella Jade in
Heaven and Levi William in her arms. She loves spaghetti bolognaise and the smell of
rain, but neither of them could make her smile when, after a textbook pregnancy,
Ariella unexpectedly died at 39 weeks gestation. No reason was ever found for her
death. Soon after Ariella’s death Larissa began writing. You can find her posts at