A hug from me

A special post for those of us who find mother’s day especially painful.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Every year it hurts. It grates, irritate, wounds, pierces the heart. For some the pain is so intense they need to disappear and be alone with their darkness. For others, well, they just pretend nothing’s the matter because it would take too long to explain.

This weekend is a celebration of motherhood as understood in western, patriarchal and mostly white society. If you don’t quite fit that mold, celebrate anyway. So, really, what’s the point? Everyone else is hell-bent on making sure mothers, oh blessed mothers, know how special they are.

Yeah, I can see you getting ready to object. Let me save you the trouble.

I do not want to deprive anyone of the joy they get from celebrating this day. Go ahead and be happy. Enjoy brunch, the works. And if you’re a mother who delights in motherhood, I’m genuinely happy for you.

All I want is a little space for those of us who find it painful.

I have a few requests.

First, remember to acknowledge those who long to be a mother and can’t. Losing a pregnancy is heart-wrenching. Being unable to conceive is painful. Giving birth to a child who was not wanted but who is loved anyway is bittersweet. Losing a child at birth or in infancy is … something no human being should have to endure.

Knowing your precious baby is the product of rape is hard to reconcile with the Hallmarkian happiness that characterizes the day. Having been coerced into pregnancy — not through rape but intense social pressure — brings its own set of challenges.

Some people lost mothers they loved, who meant the world to them. Some people never knew theirs. Some people had mothers who, on reflection, probably shouldn’t have had kids.

Then there are those of us who, despite bringing new humans into the world, do not identify as women or mothers. We get to celebrate too if we like, without taking anything away from anyone. To some queer parents — especially for those who are trans or gender fluid — the heavily binary and cisgender way mother’s day is celebrated can feel oppressive. That’s the biggest reason why I don’t personally care to celebrate it.

How about those who adopted children, formally or not, or who have in myriad ways played that role for the children in their world? This can include teachers, neighbours, work colleagues sometimes.

The thing is, mothering should not be reserved for just one kind of mother. And while I don’t wish to take anything away from anyone, please keep in mind that for every eruption of joy on your part there are wounds being re-opened.

If you are suffering this weekend, know you are not alone. I send you lots of love and hugs.