Recently, my son proudly announced that he created a spectacular card for Valentine’s Day.
“At school,” he specified. “I made a really awesome Valentine’s Day card for you at school.”
“Wow, that’s wonderful! You’re so organized,” I replied.
“Oh wait,” he exclaimed with a grin. “I meant Mudder’s Day! I made you a card for Mudder’s Day.” His enthusiasm was contagious.
No matter what holiday it was intended for, nothing could diminish the joy of Mudder’s Day—or Valentine’s Day.
As a child, I experienced that same delightful anticipation surrounding holidays. Mother’s Day sparkled with a magical glow, embodying the beauty of motherhood. It was a celebration filled with dandelion bouquets, macaroni crafts, and glittery tokens of affection. My childhood was a picture of warmth and love, where Mother’s Day symbolized parental devotion and maternal bliss.
In those innocent days, I never considered the possibility of a more complex reality behind Mother’s Day. It would have seemed as absurd as believing the Easter Bunny was the offspring of Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy.
However, as I’ve matured, I’ve come to understand the intricate emotions that Mother’s Day can evoke for many women. For some, the day is every bit as serene and joyful as depicted in advertisements. Yet for others, it brings forth sorrow, longing, and heartache. Many find themselves navigating a complicated landscape of love intertwined with grief and regret.
For some, Mother’s Day feels like a difficult trek through the mud.
Despite the idyllic picture painted in childhood, there exists a more somber truth about Mother’s Day. Friends grieve the absence of their mothers, whether they are facing a first Mother’s Day without her or have spent a lifetime yearning for a maternal figure. Many women grapple with the pain of unfulfilled dreams of motherhood due to infertility, miscarriage, or unforeseen circumstances. Others may face the day alone, lacking a partner to share in the joys and challenges of motherhood. There are those who experience complicated or strained relationships with their mothers, and mothers who have tragically lost a child far too soon, mourning a loss that never truly fades.
I won’t pretend to fully grasp the weight of such sorrow on this day. I’ve endured my share of Mother’s Day disappointments. After all, major holidays often come with unrealistic expectations that can inevitably lead to disappointment. But my experiences have been relatively minor, and for me, Mother’s Day remains a straightforward celebration. I am fortunate to have a mother I admire and a partner who consistently makes me feel valued, not just on Mother’s Day but every day.
I cannot fathom the grief of losing a parent or a child. While I’ve faced the emotional turmoil of infertility and miscarriage, those struggles are now behind me. I do not know the depth of heartache that may accompany this time of year, one that might coexist alongside feelings of gratitude and love.
Therefore, I won’t offer empty platitudes or well-meaning advice. I won’t speak of cherished memories or insist that everything unfolds for a reason. I won’t suggest “at least” things could be worse, nor will I provide spiritual interpretations. You’ve likely encountered enough discussions about maternal love and the complexities of motherhood. You already understand how to navigate grief or healing in your own way.
What I truly want to convey is, I see you and I hear you.
I recognize the sadness in your eyes and the regret in your voice. I see the reflection of your mother’s smile in the faces of her grandchildren. I see how fiercely you love the child you have, influenced by the one you’ve lost. I notice your lingering phone calls, expressing pride in the woman your mother was. I observe the attention you give to your nieces and nephews, often more focused than what the busyness of parenthood allows. I hear your silence when conversations shift to motherhood and everything it encompasses.
While I may not fully understand your unique struggles or the emotional landscape you traverse, know that I see you and I hear you.
Happy Mudder’s Day. Happy Muddy Day. Or even Happy Valentine’s Day. Regardless, understand that you are acknowledged, you are heard, and you are loved.
For further insights into navigating motherhood and emotional complexities, consider checking out resources like Healthline’s pregnancy guide or explore couples’ fertility journeys for more information on this topic. And if you’re interested in home insemination, this post about Cryobaby’s at-home insemination kit might be helpful.