When my partner underwent brain surgery in 2011 to remove what we believed was a benign tumor, I never imagined that a decade later, I’d be grappling with how to spend the second Sunday in May. Yet here I am, once again confronted by a day that feels more like an unwelcome reminder than a celebration: Mother’s Day. It’s a prominent occasion, impossible to ignore, and once you become a mother, it’s a reality you can’t escape.
Let me clarify: I wholeheartedly believe mothers deserve recognition and respect, especially after navigating a year that transformed us into makeshift chefs, unqualified educators, reluctant tech support, and perpetually tired housekeepers—all while often juggling full-time jobs that left little room for handling tantrums, internet issues, and the stresses of isolation. This sentiment holds true even for those fortunate enough to have options and earn an income.
Moms should be honored every single day, not just for one day filled with performative gestures aimed at garnering likes and emojis on social media.
This brings me to the heart of my writing. As a widow whose spouse passed away in 2012, just 15 months after a diagnosis that took a turn from benign to glioblastoma—a particularly aggressive brain cancer—I find myself facing Mother’s Day alone. The enormity of denial I experienced during that time was almost comical. I actually had a high-profile interview scheduled on the same day we learned that treatment had failed. I was more upset about rescheduling the interview than processing the devastating news from the oncologist.
When the reality of my husband’s impending death hit me, I oscillated between denial, anger, and sadness. But with a baby to care for and a ferocious dog to manage, I couldn’t afford to indulge in my emotions. Fast forward nearly a decade, and I now view single parenting as my greatest achievement. As Channing Tatum recently said, only parents are heroes, and he’s right. From ensuring there are always apples in the fridge to relocating for better schools, every choice I make centers around my child’s emotional and physical wellbeing. If I falter, there’s no one to pick up the pieces.
My parenting journey hasn’t been a simple checklist of tasks. Instead, it’s been filled with beautiful moments: my son’s gentle touch when petting our cat, the dedication he shows in his artwork, and his empathy during his friend’s tough times. I look at him and feel proud that, despite all odds, I’m raising a decent human being.
However, I don’t need one designated day to validate my role as a mother. Unfortunately, that’s what we’re relegated to as moms—one day filled with pressure to feel appreciated, leading to anxiety about how we measure up to others.
I’ve wrestled with this for years. My ego doesn’t crave it, and deep down, I understand that it’s not about receiving flowers or fancy meals—none of which I get anyway. At the core is the pain of exclusion, stemming from my circumstances, and the insecurity that comes with it.
So, do I ignore it? Not a chance, especially when every other parent shares joyful photos of lavish breakfasts with the hashtag #blessed.
I am a mother every day and every hour. No one else on this planet loves my child as fiercely as I do—because the only other person who would have shared that role is gone. My son and I are a duo, and most days that’s perfectly fine. But on Mother’s Day, the weight of feeling inadequate becomes overwhelming.
Should I guilt my 10-year-old into doing something special for me? That feels wrong. It’s not his job to mend my feelings about the life choices I’ve made, such as choosing not to date. His responsibility is to enjoy his childhood, filled with soccer, swords, and cats.
That leaves me grateful for my friends, who invite me into their lives for meals and celebrations. Yet, I often grapple with whether their invitations stem from genuine kindness or pity. Regardless, their outreach prevents me from retreating into isolation. Friends joke about how their partners forgot to make plans, and perhaps it’s true that Mother’s Day is a consumer-driven construct. But that realization doesn’t alleviate my sense of loneliness.
Ultimately, on Mother’s Day, I’m starkly reminded that despite my supportive friends and family, I’m navigating this life alone.
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Summary
Mother’s Day serves as a poignant reminder of the challenges of solo parenting, especially for those who have lost a partner. This day, often filled with pressure to feel appreciated, can amplify feelings of isolation for single mothers. While the journey of raising a child alone is filled with beautiful moments, the societal expectations of Mother’s Day can be overwhelming. Embracing the reality of parenting alone, while relying on friends for support, is a crucial aspect of navigating this complex emotional landscape.