Until ten, fifteen years ago, Mother’s Day was for me just a day filled with joy, flowers and chocolates. Today I am intimately aware that for many, Mother’s Day is also a day filled with heartache.
On Sunday, my daughter will celebrate her first Mother’s Day as Mum and I will celebrate my first as Granny. It will be a special day for sure.
But there are three ladies who are in my thoughts because they are facing another Mother’s Day without a child in their arms. They will have to force a smile as it marks another year of infertility.
Then there is my friend who has three grown up children and four grandchildren but whose firstborn lost his life to cancer when he was just twenty years of age. I cannot imagine the unceasing pain of losing a child. Yet I look at her with so much admiration because, despite all that she has gone through, she still believes in a loving God and has hope for the future.
Another friend has a fragile relationship with her mum. They are in touch, but it has been difficult since my friend was a child. She wants to maintain a relationship with her mum, but it is complicated and stressful.
As I get older, I have an increasing number of friends whose mum has died. My own husband’s mum died when she was only 52 and our children were small. Despite it being a fairly inevitable part of life, Mother’s Day can never be the same again after your mum has gone.
Not through choice, another good friend is on her own; she hasn’t found ‘Mister Right’ yet. For now, her baby is her pet cat. Although she would like to have a child of her own someday, for now she has a fur baby.
I have several friends who are single mums, but today I am thinking especially about my sister-in-law. This year she and her son will mark their fifth Mother’s Day without Dad as he died three days before the first Covid lockdown. Being a single mum is a hard road because these mums have to be Dad as well as Mum.
Another friend became a mum when a little girl needed a stable, loving home in which to grow up. Their little girl is beautiful and such an unexpected blessing for them.
Some ladies have chosen not to be mums. Since my friend married, she has faced the unending pressure of, ‘When are you going to start a family?’ She deserves the dignity and respect to make her own life choices that are right for her and her husband.
And then there’s me. Our mum remembers that she is a mother, but dementia has made her forget that her two little girls have grown up and have children of their own. Just last weekend, we visited Mum and she met her great-grandson for the first time. It was a wonderful day. Her face was lit up the whole time, but even at the time, I knew that by evening she would have forgotten again.
This Mother’s Day, to all these ladies (and I’m speaking to myself here too): I see you. Jesus sees you. I’m praying for you.
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