Mothering Ourselves, Mothering Each Other
Mother’s Day is so complex, layered, laced, woven - with so many feels.
For some - love,
for others- grief,
for many - resentment,
for several - a disorganized mixture of it all.
I could never attempt to shed light on this holiday in a way that illuminates every aspect of motherhood - good, bad or ugly. So here’s my cross-sectional take on Mother’s Day this year, from a middle-aged, divorced, single-mom of four earth-side children and four miscarried angel babies. From a daughter who holds gratitude for the gift of presence with her own mom for another year. From a witness to friends who nurture their neurodiverse children to create a picture of motherhood that can’t be mirrored in a meme or a Hallmark card. From a friend who has held hands of girlfriends whose cords of motherhood - connected to their mothers or their children - were cut too soon. From someone who allows herself permission to feel the messy beauty, love, humor, and joy that embodies motherhood, despite it all.
We can’t always predict or control how Mother’s Day will show up for us each year. One year my mom confessed that she hated Mother’s Day. As the first born daughter of five, I admittedly took this personally. After all, I had orchestrated the majority of the efforts in showering her with the classic mother’s day fanfare, and I thought I had nailed it! It took me years to recognize my own patterns of inadvertently taking responsibility for things I wasn’t accountable for. Despite my bruised pride, this comment had nothing to do with me.
Thank you teachers, for orchestrating gifts for our little ones to have something to give single and divorced moms 💗
It wasn’t until I found myself in the throes of motherhood that I began to understand how she felt. I’ve absolutely experienced years where my expectations paled in comparison to the realities I encountered. Mother’s Day became confusing because I couldn’t put my finger on what expectations were realistic.
Who am I responsible for celebrating?
Who is supposed to celebrate me?
Sometimes I found myself putting in more emotional labor patting my prideful mother’s day gift-givers on the back than I felt was genuinely placed into the gifts I received.
The silver lining of celebrating Mother’s Day post-divorce is that it has forced me to re-establish priorities, boundaries, and expectations - for myself for my children, and for my relationship with my mom. For over a decade, I became accustomed to expecting mother’s day gifts “from the kids” (and orchestrated by my husband). I later realized how relieving it was to remove this factor from my mother’s day experience. It required me to re-evaluate what was really important to me on Mother’s Day.
This is what I can share that I discovered:
1. Realistic expectations are key.
How do I want to celebrate mother’s day with (or without) my kids that is realistic AND enjoyable?
What is age-appropriate for my kids to give and receive?
What needs do I need met, in order to show up on Mother’s Day the way I want to feel?
What self-care practices help me practice giving and receiving love?
I don’t really want token gifts from my kids, purchased by my coparent. Some mamas might feel differently. I had to dig deep to think about how I like to receive love. I recognized that gift giving genuinely doesn’t top the list of things I want from the kids. My preferred languages for receiving love are quality time, acts of service, and words of affirmation. It was more important to me that my kids engaged in the practice of showing gratitude for something or someone outside of themselves.
2. Communicating my expectations of Mother’s Day is a gift to us all.
Part of my post-divorce healing journey included becoming comfortable with something brutally uncomfortable for me: voicing WHAT I need and want, and asking for help. It also included recognizing WHO was responsible for what- and I’ve gotten better at taking accountability for what cup-filling actions I was responsible for. I realized that if this is an attribute I wanted my kids to be able to possess, I needed to start modeling it. This year, I set us all up for Mother’s Day success. I booked myself a pedicure with a friend the day before Mother’s Day. We mothered ourselves, and we mothered each other. Then I gave my kids explicit instructions on how I wanted to celebrate Mother’s Day together: I told them I wanted hand-written notes, breakfast in bed, and I left them $20 and asked them to buy me a few plants from the neighbor selling them up the road. In short, I gave them an assignment they could deliver. And if they fell short, it didn’t really matter. I had paid for Mother’s Day insurance in spades via the pedicure I afforded myself the day before.
3. I can still hold gratitude with or without acknowledging any lingering grief.
It’s hard not to acknowledge the silver linings of divorce. It didn’t take me long to acknowledge that my kids lined my life in gold. Even though divorce created a different framework of motherhood than what I once dreamed, the foundations still allowed us to restructure something beautiful.
In whatever way this day finds you this year, here is my Mother’s Day wish: that we continue to find ways to mother ourselves, and that we collectively and lovingly continue to mother each other.
With love,
