Rethinking Mother's Day
Reimagining who this day is for and what it's about
This is a post I wrote for my friend Mary Austin (she/her) at Stained Glass in the City. Check out her page and stay tuned for a guest post coming soon.
Content warning: Reference to miscarriage, abortion, child loss, parent loss
I’ve experienced five Mother’s Days as a mother myself. Here’s a chronicle of how each of those went:
Year One: Non-napping baby cries for hours during an attempted luncheon with parents and in-laws. The cries wake up her toddler cousin, who screams in stereo.
Year Two: After vomiting twelve times in a single night, my toddler gives both my mother and me the stomach flu, and we spend the day curled in the fetal position, forcing down Pedialyte.
Year Three: While recovering from COVID and a multi-day migraine, an allergic reaction to sunscreen swells up my whole face and I spend the day in a Benadryl-induced stupor.
Year Four: We don’t celebrate, but my husband watches my child while I teach a class to a group of other mothers. No one is ill, and I’m excited to write in my journal that I don’t even cry all day.
Year Five: An unremarkable day of mothering and being mothered. Mid-afternoon, my friends and I exchange texts about the mixed-up soup of emotions this day evokes.
Fingers crossed for year six.
Mother’s Day is a complicated, often challenging occasion–which stands to reason, considering how complicated and challenging motherhood itself is. Let’s look into what makes this day so hard for so many.
Who is Mother’s Day for?
I said I’ve experienced five Mother’s Days as a mother, but what does it even mean to be a mother? To be worthy of being honored on this day?
I was pregnant one Mother’s Day–surely I was a mother then. But what if the fetus inside me never made it to term, or was born, but didn’t survive? What if I had elected to terminate a pregnancy? What if I were a surrogate? What if I longed to be pregnant, but couldn’t be?
Those who adopt and foster children are surely mothers. Female non-birthing parents. Step-moms. But what of the grandparents and godparents and aunties and non-biological caregivers of every stripe and flavor? What of trans and non-binary parents for whom the term “mother” feels too small or just off?
And there are those who had children, but don’t, and those who had mothers, but don’t. Those whose family size is not what they’d imagined. And those whose children, or mothers, are alive but estranged. Alive but it’s complicated. Is Mother’s Day for them, too?
I think so, and so does a friend of mine, who is hosting a new local event this year that she’s calling The Other Mother. She describes it as “A farm to table brunch and intimate circle for childless women who love deeply, mother differently, and deserve to be celebrated too.” After she announced the event, this friend received both an outpouring of public support and a slew of people reaching out privately to say thanks and share their stories. She didn’t realize how hungry people were for a Mother’s Day offering that finally included them.
What is Mother’s Day about?
Many of my Mother’s Day tears over the years have come from a mismatch of expectations and reality. To figure out where those expectations come from, I need look no further than my email inbox. These are a just a sampling of subject lines I received in the week leading up to Mother’s Day:
“The Perfect Gift for Mom”
“Celebrate with Flowers”
“Book Your Mother’s Day Brunch”
“It’s Now or Never: Order Mom’s Gift by Midnight”
“A New Program Especially for Moms”
“25% Off for Mother’s Day”
“5 Must-Have Bags for Mom”
“May is for you, Mama”
“Expedited Shipping for Mother’s Day”
“Visit Our Mother’s Day Shop”
“Make it a Delicious Mother’s Day”
It’s a familiar drill: flowers, brunch, cards, gifts. Maybe breakfast in bed. Maybe a family photo with a background of daffodils or apple blossoms. This is what we’re taught Mother’s Day looks like. But no one really talks about what it feels like–whether you have all the trimmings or not.
Those first few years, with the crying baby and the almost-comical illnesses, I was upset that my imagined day of pampering and Instagram-worthy moments didn’t happen. But on a deeper level, I think the tears arose from a realization that this day was just a microcosm of motherhood writ large. I was sold one thing, and it delivered another. I was sold “having it all,” “natural birth,” “gentle parenting,” and “a village,” and what I got was a 24-7 physically, mentally, and emotionally draining job that was unpaid, largely thankless, lonely, and unending.
And both in the case of motherhood and Mother’s Day, I had to show the world that I was happy. Any hint of ungratefulness came with a truckload of shame. We are taught that Mother’s Day is about joy, gratitude, appreciation, celebration. Feelings like grief, shame, disappointment, and loneliness are not welcome at the table. We are taught to be wary of allowing darkness to eat into our “delicious” day.
What should we do instead?
When scanning my inbox, there was one email that stood out. Its subject was:
“Opt out of Mother’s Day Messaging”
This came from Sara Reardon, also known as The Vagina Whisperer, who is a physical therapist focused on women’s health. She was offering a Mother’s Day sale, but she gave her list the option to avoid seeing those emails. Brilliant.
In recent years, I have seen some of the messaging around Mother’s Day shift. Our understanding of who is included and what it looks like to honor this day is beginning to broaden. In addition to “The Other Mother” gatherings and email opt-outs, here are a few things I would like to see highlighted on Mother’s Day:
Sharing the act of mothering
Many already include the idea of “giving Mom a break” in their Mother’s Day traditions. Let’s expand on that concept. Let’s have the teenagers and the single friends and the childless uncles take the reins for a day. Invite those who are usually the primary caregivers to have a chance to rest, or to gather with each other. Think of this day not just as a celebration of the people who call themselves mothers, but of the act of mothering itself, which the authors of Revolutionary Mothering define as “creating, nurturing, affirming, and supporting life.”
Witnessing each other
When my friend texted another mom and me last Mother’s Day to share that she was having a rough day, it unlocked something for me. Often what we all need–mothers or not–is less to be celebrated than to be seen. One of the best ways to forge a connection as humans is to witness one another through our struggles. Rather than getting Mom a “must-have bag” or a bouquet of flowers, try writing a list of five pieces of invisible labor that you know she does. Invite a mother or motherer in your life to coffee, and listen as they share what’s on their mind. Call or text a friend who has lost their mother to say “thinking of you.” Take not just the posed group photo, or the photos of the cute kids, but photos of mothers in action: rocking, nursing, reading, preparing meals, building LEGO castles, cheering for the game, lighting the birthday candles, dancing at the wedding. Share these photos with the caregivers who are pictured. Tell them, I see you.
Activism
Vomiting episodes aside, the problem with Mother’s Day–and modern motherhood more broadly–is not an individual one. When we feel more than just contentment and joy on this day, when the tears start to flow, we should not be ashamed. Our society has set us up to feel inadequate. Perhaps we can start to think of Mother’s Day more like Earth Day, May Day, Juneteenth, or Indigenous People’s Day: a moment to reflect on inequities and take action to reverse them. Here is a very short list of systemic issues that impact mothers and those who mother:
Reproductive justice
Racial disparities in maternal mortality
Parental leave
Access to childcare
LGBTQ rights
Pay equity
Maternal mental health
Healthcare equity
Flexible workplace policies
Feel free to comment with your favorite mother-supporting causes and organizations. Let’s do our research, join mailing lists, call legislators, and donate!
Make Mother’s Day about more than the mothers in your family: make it a global movement to acknowledge and improve the daily realities mothers face. Make it a motherhood revolution.
Mother’s Day is complicated. Even with a head-to-toe refresh, the best choice for you may be to simply opt out. Honor the people in your life who make this choice. Mother yourself by honoring your own complicated feelings, too.
And whether your day is filled with blue skies and mimosas or tantrums and tears, believe me: I see you.
With light, life, and love,
Devon
Please give a warm TUA welcome to our newest subscriber, Karna!
P.S. I am donating 100% of this month’s share of all paid subscriptions to Loving Black Single Mothers’ Summertime Joy initiative. This program puts up to $1,500 each into the hands of mothers to help them meet the extra demands of this season when school is out, care and supportive structures are hard to find, and everyone is hungry for fun activities and a moment of rest. Subscribe by the end of May to be included!
With you 100%.
@Devon Parish, thanks for this. I feel buoyed by it, going into this fraught weekend.