Mothering the Mother - A Mother's Day Reflection

I survived my second Mother’s Day during a global pandemic (third, if we count me being pregnant in 2020), and I must say, this was the one I struggled with the most. Ironic given that, the world is more “open” now than it has been in 2020 and 2021 allowing me more activities to do and places to go. I envisioned I’d spend Mother’s Day surrounded by love, getting pampered, downing bottomless mimosas, or simply sleeping in while ignoring all responsibilities tied to both adult and motherhood. Unfortunately, that isn’t how my day went at all, but hey! A girl can only dream, right?

Don’t get me wrong, the love you receive from your child is unmatched, and was more than enough showering for me to be surrounded by. However, my gremlin is just three months shy of two, so I had to kiss my irresponsible and careless Sunday goodbye and do what I do best… mom life.

Society has made it so that Mother’s Day idolizes what we call the “Ideal Mom”. You know the annoying ones we are PRESSURED into being by unrealistic social media expectations or just flat-out liars (yes, if you as a mother say you enjoy motherhood 24/7, you are a liar and very much contributing to the problem of how glamourized this shit actually is NOT). It’s to the point that we are frowned at for wishing for a kid free day/break. Mothers are expected to be on their A game and filled with joy and gratitude, praising motherhood to be the world’s greatest gift.

What a lot of people fail to realize is that while Mother’s Day is meant to be celebratory, it can cause a conflict of emotions and become a huge trigger. For some, it is a painful reminder of grievance-- whether it’s the loss of their own mother, loss of their child, infertility issues, or in my case, simply suffering from postpartum anxiety/depression, not believing you are the mother you assumed you would be.

Over the course of 21 months, I can say that my battle with postpartum has gotten manageable. I was fortunate enough to have an “emotional vacation” and spend a week in a behavioral hospital a few months ago and was able to finally get the help I refused to get at my six week checkup in 2020. You’d think between professional help, the support from my parents, friends, and Jayce’s paternal side, that my fear of failing, intrusive thoughts and the overall daily fight with my conscious would have vanished by now. But this isn’t the case, as I am still filled with self-doubt on my ability to be a “good mom”.  

I spent the first 5 or 6 hours of the day having a mental breakdown filled with anxiety and tears and had to dig deep as to what was triggering me to not be happy on Mother’s Day. I mean after all; it was a day to celebrate me. I was alive and healthy and so was my son. I had survived another year with a kid in a pandemic. I deserved all the cake, tequila, and flowers I could bask in. But instead, I was sitting face to face with my toddler ugly crying.

I received the emotional heart felt texts from friends and family. To my surprise, I even got a gift from my son’s father. The reality is that no matter how well meaning the gifts, kind words, and flowers may be, they did not substitute as a comfort for the toil that has taken place for a first-time mom in the midst of PPD/A, nor were they deemed celebratory to me this year. Had this been the previous two years, I would have been grateful and overjoyed to be shown this much love, as I was at my literal lowest. But now? I’m a little stronger and unfortunately the tangible things  were simply not enough this year.

I didn’t care for it. I won’t say I’m not appreciative of them, but more than anything this year, I wanted a break. A day to myself. Twenty-four hours of solitude, peace and quiet, laziness, and relaxation. Y’know, the intangible shit. Between a busy body 20-month-old and nonstop phone rings wishing me a Happy Mother’s Day, the intangibles were quickly scratched off my list.

I spent half of Mother’s Day crying, overwhelmed and under-joyed, simply because no one considered what I truly wanted as a gift – a break. I spent the other half letting my postpartum thoughts get the best of me that if no one offered to give me a break, that maybe I wasn’t deserving of it. It wasn’t that my loved ones didn’t consider me or that I wasn’t deserving, but that I hadn’t expressed what it was that I needed from them - to be mothered. Not only did I need a break from being the mother, I also needed to be mothered. I was mentally and emotionally at wits end and desperately wanted to be nurtured the way I’d been celebrated nurturing my own.

I say all of that to say this, every mother is different. What one mother might find to be a celebration, the next one might not. What YOU believe is the perfect gift, may not be. I’ve noticed that a lot of people expect mothers to be filled with basking in the glow of our “angelic” children, when most of us would rather not see our children for the day. No matter how well you think you might know someone, take the time to ask them what would make you feel celebrated?  To my mothers, please do not be afraid to state plainly exactly it is that you need, want and desire. Mother’s day should serve and recognize you and your victories. Speak up and don’t hold back, and remember you are enough, you are deserving, and you are resilient.