Mother’s Day.
For many people that means flowers and handmade cards and Sunday brunches and waves of laughter. It means celebration and gratitude and warm embraces and great rejoicing. It means resting fully in all that is good about loving and being loved.
But not for some people.
For some it only means tears.
For some it just hurts.
In the hearts of many, this day is a bitter, unsolicited reminder of what was but no longer is—or a heavy holiday of mourning what never was at all.
Maybe it is such a day for you.
It might bring with it the scalding sting of grief for the empty chair around a table.
It might come with choking regret for a relationship that has been severed.
It might be a day of looking around at other mothers and other children, and feeling the unwelcome intrusion of jealousy that comes with comparison.
It might be yet another occasion to lament the mistakes you made or the words you didn’t say or the kindness you never knew.
It might be an annual injury you sustain.
Consider this a personal love letter to you who are struggling today; you whose Mother’s Day experience might be rather bittersweet— or perhaps only bitter.
This is consent to feel fully the contents of your own heart without censorship or guilt or alteration.
If you are hurting, then hurt.
May you feel permission to cry, to grieve, to be not alright.
May you relieve yourself of the burden of pretending everything is fine or faking stability or concealing the damage.
May you feel not a trace of guilt for any twinge of pain or anger that seizes you today, because it is your right to feel.
Above all though, may you find encouragement even in your profound anguish.
May you find in your very sadness, the proof that your heart though badly broken, still works.
Let the pain you are enduring reassure you that you still have the capacity to care deeply, despite how difficult it has been.
See your grief as the terrible tax on loving people well, and see your unquenched longing for something better as a reminder of the goodness within you that desires a soft place to land.
If on this Mother’s Day you are struggling, know that you are not alone.
May these words be the flowers that you wait for or the call that won’t come or the conversation that you can’t have or the reunion that has not yet arrived.
Let them be hope packaged and personally delivered to the front door of your heart, and may they sustain you.
In this time of great pain, know that you are seen and heard, and that you are more loved than you realize.
Be greatly encouraged today.
Stepmother. Broken heart. We get a bad rap, starting with Disney.
I feel so bad reading all these sad stories. I am in the category of loving and caring and working and tried to be a mom and dad in the lives of my three now grown children. Dare I say that “I hate Mother’s Day” ~ After all the beatings from their father through many years, I dared to divorce him and am now re-married and very happy with this gift from heaven of a man/husband. (16 yrs.) I am not acknowledged on Mother’s Day and it tears me apart. My prayers to the moms and children ~ life is way too short for this to happen. I just lost my dad a month ago 🙁 no phone calls from my daughter or oldest son. {{ hugging U all in my heart }}
(Trigger warning for abandonment/violence) I barely know what to say from the depths of the sadness I feel for my child. My child’s mother is and addict and survivor of traumatic violence. She has also committed terrible crimes to feed her addiction and will be incarcerated for 12-20 more years. And she left my child over and over again. And failed him. And the people around her did too.
And my heart aches for her on Mother’s Day. We don’t talk about that and somethings are too tough to carry, but I do wish peace and health for her.
And even more so for him. And this week each year, he cannot get his bearings. I support him with love and therapy and laughter and nourishment, but it simply can’t be enough. The pain is real and deep.
And at every turn he is told to celebrate mothers, that all mothers are good, that he should be grateful. And there is only hurt there. And there is only shame. And we unravel and heal and dress the wounds where we can.
But this is not a good day. And this is not a good week. And this is not healthy. And there is no “all mothers.”
I am incredibly grateful to those who open up the space for him to have an authentic journey in relationship to his mother. And that includes rage, anger, hurt, tears, and maybe someday something else, but not now.
A thousand times yes!!! I am a mom and I love that part of Mother’s Day sadly my relationship with my mother has always been difficult to navigate due to her mental illness (posted about it yesterday). I also think of friends of my children that have lost a parent, those that couldn’t conceive and everyone that has a difficult or non-existent relationship with their mom. Nice to read your thoughts on this – thank you.
I have lost a grown son, he did not die, just went AWOL from his life, from his family, 3 beautiful boys, from his brothers, and from me, his Mom. There is no contact, no support for his kids, no love. So, every holiday there is a cloud of grief that kinda follows me around. I hurt for his kids and for myself and his dad. It is what it is happens to be a common phrase these last few years. Well “IT” hurts like hell. Thanks for another great post.
Wow and hear I thought I was alone (not really). I just lost my mother Feb 2016. I was her full time caregiver for the last 2 yrs. and during that time yes we became very very close. I miss her so very much each and every day. Unfortunately I waited too long to have kids ,..even though when I was very young I told myself I would have many kids…I think now that my beloved Mom is gone it is hitting me more that I didn’t have kids…I see my friends with their kids and see them excited when they become grandparents…I don’t get to have that experience oh how I longed too…having a child to say to me :Momma I love you…. oh well sorry making no sense. To you that haven’t spoken to your Mom (parents) in along time Please Please they are your only parents…what I would do just to have 1 more day 1more hour,1 more minute just to tell my parents that I love them….
Thank you for this post. I was my mother’s last child she shouldn’t have had because was incapable of dealing with more, her scapegoat for everything that was wrong with her life and her proxy for her Munchausen’s Syndrome. She resented me for existing, wanted me gone for as long as I can remember and delighted in humiliating me. She enabled my brothers to torture me and fabricated a mental illness in me so she could take me out of school for psychiatrist visits one afternoon every week, ensuring that I was mistrusted and disrespected by my classmates and teachers. Not exactly an effect that just passes in time. When called on it, she blamed stress and named me as the cause of the stress.
She had an obvious mental illness for which she is now heavily medicated, so I’m under constant pressure to forgive. I thought I had for a while, but then I had my own child and all the horrors came flooding back to me. Parenting has forced me to realize that some behaviors of parents are absolutely unacceptable. I’m no longer able to forgive, I refuse to judge myself for that and I don’t care if anyone else does.
Because of my mental illness, the timing of my divorce, and my embrace of my dream career path, I decided not to have children. My now husband is also an artist and we enjoy our freedom. But still this day is so hard for me. I feel like I am not really a woman without being a mom. After reading these posts, I have realized how blessed I am. My mother and I were estranged for awhile, but now we are so close now. Also, I have the opportunity to provide childcare in my free time.
Still, it is so nice to be told the pangs of jealousy are okay. 1/3 of my church are children! And many under seven. My arms long to hold them. Now that I am approaching 40 and my husband 54, I know being a traditional mom is not going to happen. Thank you for knowing my pain.
Thank you.
Thank you John for these words. As a woman, who has recently, lost the ability to have children, your words bring comfort. Even though as I read them I am sitting on my lawnmower crying. 🙂
Thank you for this post acknowledging and affirming all of us to whom this “holiday” is tough. Last year I lost my mom in a car accident the month before Mother’s Day and then my daughter in a car accident 4 days after. I am dreading reliving the pain and suffering and grief —but what makes it worse is the alienation I feel from others who seem to expect me to pretend I am fine and put on a mask. The biggest joy and blessing in my life is being “momma” to my two girls. On Mother’s Day I will have the joy of spending it with one of my girls and thank the Lord for that, but it is hard. I am thankful that your post made me remember it’s ok to feel this way-and that this day is tough for many.
I’m hoping that the millions of birthparents–women who have made an adoption plan at a time in their lives when they were unable to parent for any reason–see this column and feel affirmed. Their motherhood and its related grief so often goes unacknowledged.
Agreed.
My wife and I went through 17 years of fertility treatments before our first child was born. For so many years we avoided Mothers Day, Fathers Day, all that stuff. So while we can now celebrate our two wonderful children, we can still remember the heartache of infertility. Our hearts go out to all those who will be avoiding Mothers Day, we understand.
It’s very important to remember first moms (birthmom) on Mother’s Day. Society tends to forget these mothers as legally their rights have been terminated. Yet, for so many of us first moms, we ache for our babies every day but Mother’s Day makes it more acute. I’ve found that this is the case even when the birthmom was 100% on board with the adoption to birthmoms who were made to give up their children to every type in between. Even those with no regrets miss their babies.
I’m a first mom who’s been in reunion with my 32 year-old daughter for over a year now. This will be my second Mother’s Day knowing her. I am so blessed.
Congrats to you Lori on reunion with your daughter. Happy Mother’s Day to you both.
I have this sort of cumulative grief that surfaces on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day.
Professionally I investigate child abuse and neglect. This has given me a perspective on parents and families that I never expected. On one hand, no parent does everything wrong. And in over the half the cases I investigate there isn’t support for the allegations. And at the same time, I get really tired of hearing people talk about motherhood (especially) in terms of ‘natural instincts.’ Or talking about motherhood as unconditional love and acceptance for your child. That is a reality only some of the time. That’s really hard to listen to when I have images in my head from photographic evidence I will have to present in court next week. When I think about all the hurt kids and their families that I have known over the years. When Mother’s Day elicits an almost insistence on the Hallmark version of motherhood. In reality, motherhood is a neutral noun. Some women do it better than others. Most are average with human faults. There is such a thing as ‘good enough.’ I think it is important to remember where you came from, who you came from, even if you don’t know much about her or if the relationship was difficult. But at least put down the rose colored glasses because they help no one.
I was scrolling through my facebook feed, wishing I could block all references of Mother’s Day, when this showed up. Thank you! My sweet Momma, Quinette Ludlam, died in the fire that also took my sister and brother in law’s home just last week. My sister, her husband, and my 21 year old only child and son barely escaped with their lives!! The pain I’m feeling is worse than anything but I know it doesn’t touch the pain they feel, having to escape a fire and knowing there was NOTHING they could do to save our sweet mother! I really needed this essay and thank you so much for it! I miss her so much and just can’t see past this hurt and broken feeling. We know she didn’t suffer. We know she is in a better, so much better, place. We just want her here with us!
Mother’s Day is hard for me because it brings up feelings of inadequacy and heartbreak – feeling that exist on Mother’s Day because of all of the miscarriages I’ve had… seven to be exact. My husband and I tried for so long before realizing that I was putting my health at risk after the last one put me in hospital for a couple of days due to blood loss and risk of infection.
I want to be a mother. He wants to be a father; but neither will happen by way of my body. We’ve always wanted to adopt and foster children. It would have been a deal breaker for me if my husband (then fiance) wasn’t on-board.
Mother’s Day may eventually graduate from mixed feelings; however, this year is another reminder of our loss and of my perceived inadequacies.
I don’t think you should feel inadequate because you haven’t or cannot have a child. Of course it is painful for you and we should embrace these feelings so that eventually they will go away. You can be a mother in all kinds of ways – mother nature being one of them. You can mother someone else’s child too – I often see myself at church looking after tots who can’t get down the stairs and need reassurance.
I feel for you Bonnie – truly. Maybe when you just relax, the baby will come. It happened to me. It can happen to you. And if it doesn’t, thank God for the present and the future and hey, buy yourself one big bunch of flowers – as a mother in heart. Love from Brussels. Hazel
Thank you for “seeing” us.