Mother’s Day Isn’t Easy for Everyone—And That’s Okay

When I was younger (and not yet a mom), I imagined Mother’s Day would be filled with champagne brunches, sticky little fingers, and a deep, glowing joy as I looked around at the little humans I created. And truthfully, I’ve had a few Mother’s Days just like that.

But I’ve also had Mother’s Days that ache a bit. Age, and maybe motherhood itself, seems to bring a deeper awareness of grief and pain. This year, I spent the day with my mother-in-law, who lost her son—my husband’s brother—two years ago to pancreatic cancer at age 50. While she sat amidst our usual chaos on a sunny spring day, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of what this holiday must be for her.

The day before, I saw a friend whose three-year-old son drowned two years ago; this holiday hurts for her. I thought of another friend who lost her mom to cancer 12 years ago, and one whose mom is now living with Alzheimer’s. I thought of my own miscarriage, and those of my friends. I thought of my cousin who delivered a stillborn baby at full term.

This day is heavy for so many.

And still, yesterday, my boys wrapped their arms around me and gave me fancy chocolates. I received homemade cards and glittery knickknacks crafted at school. I felt deep joy and overwhelming gratitude for the chance to be a mom. But I also paused throughout the day—to hug my mother-in-law a little tighter and to text friends I know were hurting.

If Mother’s Day is tender or raw for you, please know you’re not alone. It’s okay to hold both grief and gratitude, to celebrate and to mourn. Reach out if you need support, take space if that feels better, and remember: love doesn’t always look like a card and flowers. Sometimes, it looks like simply surviving the day. And that, too, is sacred.