While I yearn to embrace the first flush of Spring and wave farewell to the long nights and endless grey, my fragile mental state peaks at this time of year due to the dreaded Mother's Day.Every year this is lauded as a celebration of motherhood and great emphasis is placed upon it, with shops overloaded with flowers, gifts and gushy cards.
For those of us who cannot have children, this is merely a reminder of our failing to be able to carry out the most basic biological activity - to procreate. A reminder that others know the love and dependency of a child on the parent, and we will never truly know what that feels like. We can simulate this love with friends' children, but that innate love is never felt.
For years I looked after other people's children and I have now moved on to looking after babies before they are born, as I have become a bit of a Subject Matter Expert in pregnancy in the workplace. Women seek me out for help and advice during their pregnancy and Line Managers call on me for advice on the requirements for their pregnant staff. I enjoy helping these women and they are always grateful. I have pictures of babies I have helped protect and get thanks from new mothers and their management.But it still doesn't heal the hole in my heart, the cold shadow in my life.
Just to drive home how useless my body is, we recently had information on the first British female to male transgender to successfully bear a child.
So we irrationally now think MEN can have babies, but some women can't even do this simple thing..
Roll on April...