Celebrating all on Mother's Day

belonging, compassion, intentions, love -

Celebrating all on Mother's Day

The other day I was flipping through Atlas of the Heart by Brene Brown and discovered the mixed feeling of happiness and sadness known as bittersweet. It's how I feel today.
This is my first Mother's Day without my mom, who passed from a ten-year health decline last June. I miss the mom I knew before our family broke apart. Slogging through our fights and drama about her care was beyond stressful, and even with my mindfulness practice, I would routinely suffer from TMJ headaches from all the negative juju I held in my jaw. Since she's passed, I haven't had a single headache - the body is one crazy vessel.


As I sit with this sadness, I'm also grateful for how she influenced me as a man and husband as I celebrate my wife and her mothering of our two daughters - I've grown to believe that moms of teenage daughters have a special place waiting for them in heaven. My wife is also a childbirth doula, so the miracle of birth is ever present in our home.

For many, Mother's Day is a day to rejoice, but as a guy, having this proximity to birth provides a unique awareness that Mother's Day can be difficult for others who couldn't have children or those currently trying to conceive. It may be difficult for empty-nest moms, those who have lost children, feel unseen or grinding it out as single moms. At the same time, others may have a traumatic relationship with their mom which makes today challenging.

I invite you to love the mothers in your life and those who may have a strained relationship with Mother's Day. See them as these wonderfully complex humans and more than nurturers or caregivers, and create space for the myriad "feel of feelings" that you or those closest to you may experience today.

And then do it again tomorrow. Because the flowers and brunch today are sweet, but it probably doesn't make up for the other 364 times that Mom gets asked, "What's for dinner?" :)

P.S., The things you say when you are...
Three years old, "Mommy, I luuuv you."
Ten years old, "Mom, whatevs!
Sixteen years old, "My Mom is so annoying!"
Eighteen years old, "I want out of this house!"
Twenty-five years old, "You were right, Mom."
Thirty years old, "I miss my Mom."
Forty years old, "I need my Mom."
Fifty years old, "I don't want to lose my Mom."
Seventy years old, "I wish my Mom was here."