Becoming a mum is the toughest and greatest job in the world. It’s a job nonetheless, and with every job we always must ask for help and share our workload, but there comes a beautiful hidden feeling amongst the pain of stitches, swollen boobs and exhaustion.

The pure unrequited love for your mother.

She went through everything that you went through if not ten times worse. In my mums day, pregnancy pillows and being able to listen to your baby’s heartbeat on a tiny machine would have been a privilege, and still they soldiered on the good old fashioned way. Praying and listening to their midwives.

I endured a terrible illness a mere 3 days after my daughter was born, and whilst my boyfriend was a complete tower of strength helping me, my mother swiftly took charge of her brand new addition. She purchased everything I didn’t think I’d need; nothing major, just those dainty little things that make the first day’s of motherhood a little better.

She gave my baby her first bath, witnessed her umbilical cord fall off, dressed her in her first pyjamas and through my own will, I felt no hint of jealousy or envy. Just a rush of huge affection for the woman who gave birth to me and my five siblings and went through those early days all over again just for me. All the while running her own household, cooking, cleaning, organising Christmas ( Mia was born the 15th December) AND texting and calling me and ensuring I was on the mend and sending me regular updates of my newborn.

Our mothers are our first love, our greatest critic and best friend. We may always have our ups and downs, but a mothers love is beautiful and it extends even when a grandchild is born.

I would never have survived without her constant support.

To this day I see her in a whole new light. A strong, powerful woman who doesn’t focus on getting it wrong, but how amazing It’ll feel to get it right. My only wish is to be half the extraordinary woman she is when I grow up.

By Ruby Kaur.