I remember looking in the card aisle for a Mother’s Day card. I would pick up card after card and put them back down. I would read what was inside, and none of it was true. It wasn’t how I felt.
A flood of deep, loving words like: “You mean more to me than you will ever know,” “I am so lucky to have you for my mom,” “Thank you for being the most amazing mother.” So, I’d continue searching for a short, sweet card. One that simply said, “Happy Mother’s Day”.
That was the one. That was all I wanted it to say. Mother’s Day has always been a tough day for me.
As a young adult without kids, I couldn’t wait for the day to end. The day was a reminder of what I didn’t have in my life. A day that forced the feelings stuffed deep in my chest to crack wide open.
I hated Mother’s Day until I became a mom myself. Where I could shift the focus onto my child and me as the mom. Where I could reflect on how I was breaking the cycle. How I was creating a new narrative by stopping the hurt and toxicity.
Mother’s Day has sunshine in it now. But it is still a hard day. It is both hurt and happiness. It is beautiful and sad. It is grief. It is healing. It is all these things.
My children’s kisses, hugs, smiles, and cards are the best gifts on this difficult day. They are reminders that all my hard work is for them. This job is hard and trying and often thankless, but it is the most important and meaningful. I should know.
I hope my children never feel the way I have had to on Mother’s Day. And I am confident they never will.
