The Monday after Mother’s Day, I was emotionally hung over.
I love my mom and have a great relationship with her. I was happy to see her, give presents, and celebrate. But at the same time I ached.
I want a husband and children. I want to participate in Mother’s Day as a mother, not just as a daughter. I ached for women who wanted children, for those who struggle with infertility, for those who have a strained relationship with their children or with their own mothers. I wept for those who had lost children, or lost mothers, or who grieved at anything that was not as they wished it to be.
I wept. Not daintily-dab-at-the-corners-of-my-eyes crying. I cried gasping for breath, smeary, messy, ugly tears. I was blindsided by my emotions. I had not anticipated the ache being so strong that morning. I had to apologize to my mom later that in my case, my tears were not mourning our relationship in any way, they were tears of blocked goals and longing for my own family.
I posted this as my Facebook status that morning, “Praying today for those not celebrated specifically today: the wishing-to-be-mothers. Thankful for you, your perseverance in hope and the many ways you spiritually parent so many in your lives. Happy wishing-to-be-Mother’s Day!”
I had people contacting me throughout the day saying thank you and even asking to repost my words. I was grateful to know that other people lived with this ache. I even had a friend thank me for my words the next day and even as she was expressing her thanks she spontaneously broke into the same smeary, messy, ugly tears that I’d experienced the day before. And I loved it. Not because she ached as well, but because I was not alone in this struggle. Her overpowering “ugly crying” was beautiful to me. Someone understands. Someone sees my tears. Someone cares.
If Mother’s Day was hard for you, for any reason, share your tears with Someone.
“Earth has no sorrow that Heaven can’t heal.”