When Mother’s Day Doesn’t Feel Like a Celebration
Mother’s Day always lands with a strange kind of heaviness on my heart. It’s not quite grief, not quite resentment—just this quiet ache, a whisper of something I never fully got but always wished I had.
See, growing up, I didn’t really feel loved by my mama. Not in that soft, nurturing way you read about in Hallmark cards or see in commercials with warm pancakes and hugs in sunlit kitchens. My mom had her own wounds, I guess. Her own shadows she never shook loose. And while she did what she could, love often felt more like duty than tenderness. More like checking a box than holding a heart.
So Mother’s Day, for me, never had that rosy glow. It always felt like a reminder of what I should feel—but didn’t. It was a day that felt more like pretending than celebrating.
Fast forward to now: I’m the mama. I’ve raised daughters with my whole heart. I’ve stayed up late, prayed hard, loved even when it broke me open. I’ve carried them on my hip, in my heart, and through every hard thing. And now that they’re older, Mother’s Day… well, it feels like it’s not really “a thing” anymore.
The homemade cards and sticky breakfast-in-bed days are behind us. They’ve grown into their own busy, beautiful lives. And I get it—I do. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting a little. There’s this quiet hope in my chest every year, wondering if maybe someone will pause and say, “Hey Mama, thank you.” Not out of obligation—but from remembering.
And then there’s my husband. Lord, I love that man—but he’s from the school of thought that says, “You ain’t my mama, so why would I celebrate you?”
Whew. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that…
And I know what he means, on the surface. But here’s the thing—he’s seen the way I’ve mothered our babies. He’s watched me pour myself out a thousand times over. So on the one day of the year that’s supposed to honor that kind of love, it would be nice to feel seen. To be reminded that what I’ve done mattered. That I matter.
It’s not about flowers or fancy gifts. Honestly, it’s not even about the day itself. It’s about being acknowledged. Celebrated. Loved out loud.
So if you’re out there and Mother’s Day feels… complicated—know you’re not alone. Whether you didn’t feel loved by your mother, or you feel overlooked now that your own season of mothering is quieter—your feelings are real. They’re valid. And they’re shared.
Here’s to the mamas who showed up with love they never received. To the women who mother in ways big and small, seen and unseen. And here’s to hoping the people around us start to understand that even warriors need flowers sometimes.
Happy Mother’s Day, even if it doesn’t feel happy. You’re still worthy of love.
