When Mother’s Day Hurts

Gustav Klimt “Mother and Child”
Today is Mother’s Day in Ireland and the UK.
For the past few years I’ve written about Mother’s Day without my mother, but this year I hesitated to write about it.
I don’t want to be one of those bloggers perennially moaning my losses.
But then I remembered the first year after my mother died when I googled for hours wanting to find someone else who understood the pain of that first Mother’s Day without a mother to celebrate with.
Each Mother’s Day, each birthday, each holiday we face without our mothers is painful, but that first is the hardest; the first sorrow wept without her.
And I thought too of all those invisible mothers women who long to be called mother, but for whom the dream never materialises.
For so many of us, it’s a day of unspoken pain. I’ve walked the hard road of infertility.
I know there isn’t another day so packed with sadness and emptiness for a woman trying to conceive or dealing with pregnancy loss than this day set aside to celebrate motherhood.
Justine Froekler uses the words “soul scars” to describe the pain of infertility, “but these forever scars are invisible to the outside world,” she says, “and many times are completely misunderstood, invalidated, minimized and sometimes even ignored”.
In an open letter to pastors, blogger Amy Young shared the following story about a Mother’s Day experience at her church.
“A pastor asked all mothers to stand. On my immediate right, my mother stood and on my immediate left, a dear friend stood. I, a woman in her late 30s, sat. I don’t know how others saw me, but I felt dehumanized, gutted as a woman. Real women stood, empty shells sat. I do not normally feel this way. I do not like feeling this way. I want no woman to ever feel this way in church again”.
Motherhood is idealized in our culture and societal expectations about Mothers Day can open up raw wounds.
There are many ways in which this day hurts. To quote my friend, Yvonne, “it is a marked day.” What of those families who’ve lost mothers, mothers who have lost children, mothers who are distant from their children, and children distant from their parents; those who never knew a loving relationship with their mother, mothers who gave children up for adoption – the list goes on.
So I write this post for all those who are finding today a painful reminder of loss.
Be gentle with yourself.
And for those who know friends and loved ones who may struggle today, an acknowledgment of their loss would be a great kindness.
Send a text, write an email, or call them to let them know you are thinking of them. Validation, compassion, and kindness are among the most precious gifts we can give today.
Marie I lost my mom and was not told of her death and her and I had no closure, but I can tell you this: the love between a mother and a daughter even if strained can’t be truly broken. I don’t celebrate Mother’s Day in the US it’s a hard day. I empathize completely and also was unable to conceive children of my own. My it’s a life of beauty and a life of sadness but we’d not know the light if we did not have the night. Sending you the biggest hug possible.
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Thank you so much Ilene for sharing your story of motherhood with me – my own mom’s death was extremely complicated and left me without closure and with severe PTSD. Your words are hugely comforting to me – you are a wonderful light in this world xxx
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Hi Marie,
It’s so hard, isn’t it? I’m sorry your heart hurts so much not just during March, of course, but every day. I’ve been thinking about you since you left that comment on my post about my mother. I hope knowing that while I can’t fully understand your unique history and set of circumstances – your pain, your losses, I do empathize. I do care. I know others do as well. Much love to you, my friend. x
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