Mother’s Day Has Always Been Complicated For Me

By Prue Anderson - Community Services manager

“One safe and supportive person can change someone’s world.”

Mother’s Day has always been complicated for me.

For many people, it is a day of celebration, connection, flowers, family lunches, and gratitude. But for those of us who grew up without a mother’s love and presence, it can also carry grief - not necessarily grief from death, but grief for what never was.

My mother chose to leave when I was five years old. At that age, I did not fully understand the reasons why, but I understood absence. I understood watching other children run into their mothers’ arms while quietly wondering why mine was not there.

As I grew older, that absence became more complex - sadness as a child, anger and insecurity as a teenager, and eventually a deep awareness of how profoundly maternal abandonment shapes the way a person sees themselves.

For a long time, I questioned my worth because of it.

But becoming a mother myself changed everything.

Raising three daughters without having experienced consistent maternal guidance has been one of the most challenging and healing experiences of my life. There is no roadmap for learning how to mother when you were never truly mothered yourself. I had to learn through instinct, mistakes, resilience, and love.

And there were many moments where I doubted myself.

Moments where I wished I had someone to call for reassurance or advice. Moments where I wondered if I was doing enough. But somewhere along the way, I realised something powerful:

I may not have had the mother I needed, but I could become that person for my daughters.

That realisation shaped not only my parenting, but my entire life.

One of the greatest challenges - and greatest lessons - of my motherhood journey came when my youngest daughter was diagnosed with Level 3 autism.

Nothing fully prepares you for navigating a diagnosis like that as a parent. The appointments, therapies, advocacy, emotional exhaustion, constant learning, and the overwhelming responsibility of trying to make the best decisions for your child can feel incredibly isolating. There were times I sat alone after difficult days wondering whether I was doing enough, whether I was making the right choices, and how I was supposed to carry so much responsibility without the guidance I often wished I had.

But what I learned through that journey is that family is not always the people you are born to.

Sometimes family is the people you build.

Along the way, I found an incredible village of people - many with firsthand experience of autism, disability, parenting challenges, and life’s complexities - who became some of the most important supports in my life. The people I can call when things feel hard. The people who understand the meltdowns, the victories, the exhaustion, the fear, and the love without needing long explanations.

People who remind me I am not alone when motherhood feels overwhelming.

These people may not be connected to me by blood, but they are family in every way that matters. They have helped carry me through moments where I felt lost, emotionally drained, or unsure of what to do next. They have celebrated our wins, sat beside us during difficult moments, and helped create a sense of belonging and support that I never truly experienced growing up.

And maybe that is one of the most beautiful things life has taught me:

sometimes we do not inherit the family we need - sometimes we build it ourselves.

Today, Mother’s Day still holds grief at times. There are moments where I feel the absence deeply - watching friends lean on their mothers, seeing generations together, or wishing I knew what it felt like to have that unconditional guidance and support.

But alongside that grief now sits pride.

Pride in the woman I became despite my beginning.

Pride in the fact that my daughters will never question whether they are loved, wanted, or safe.

Professionally, my journey led me into forensic mental health and the NDIS sector - work that is incredibly demanding, but deeply meaningful. Supporting individuals with trauma, mental health challenges, disabilities, and complex needs has taught me the importance of compassion, consistency, and human connection. It has also reinforced something I learned early in life: one safe and supportive person can change someone’s world.

I believe my own experiences shaped the way I approach both motherhood and my career. Growing up without my mother taught me how deeply people are affected when they feel unseen or unsupported. Because of that, I have always wanted to become the kind of person who helps others feel safe, valued, and understood.

Most importantly, I want my daughters to grow up knowing that another person’s inability to love properly should never determine their worth.

I want them to see resilience without hardness. Strength without emotional distance. Independence without loneliness.

This Mother’s Day, I still hold space for the little girl who once wondered why her mother left. But I also celebrate the woman that little girl became.

A woman who built a meaningful life.A woman who created stability where there once was instability.A woman who turned pain into purpose.A woman who built her own village when she needed one most.A woman raising three daughters with the love and reassurance she once longed for herself.

And perhaps that is what Mother’s Day means to me now — not only grieving what I lost, but celebrating what I chose to build in its place.