I see you moms.

I see the moms who will never see all of their children together on this earth at the same time.

The moms who dread the question, “When are you having children?” or “Will you have any more?”

The moms who pray for that second line, month after month.

The moms who are seeing that positive test and don’t know how they are going to make this work.

The moms who can’t shake the blues or depression, who feel guilty for not feeling happier about their baby.

The moms who feel as though they are doing it all wrong or that they aren’t cut out for this.

The moms in the thick of sleepless nights and exhausting days.

The moms with big kids who once again have sleepless nights of worry.

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The moms who are empty nesters now, trying to figure out what to do with the quiet.

The moms with broken hearts from distant or estranged children.

The moms who put their children up for adoption to give them a chance at a better life.

I see you. 

I also see those who no longer have their mom here.

Those who never met their mother.

Those with broken hearts from their distant or estranged mother. 

For those who would rather hide this season instead of pretending to smile.

I see you.

My first baby was due the week of Mother’s Day. We lost baby Blue long before then. My heart was torn open, and I felt like a fraud. I didn’t have a child. I wasn’t a mother. Yet my heart yearned to be with my baby. I was caught in a time between not being a mother and being a mother. I didn’t know where I fit. As Mother’s Day and my due date approached, I couldn’t help but focus on my flat stomach that never even sported a baby bump during my pregnancy. 

The next fall, we were pregnant again. Again, we were due around Mother’s Day. This was our redemption story, or so we thought. We lost baby Olive early as well. By the time Mother’s Day came that year, I was halfway through my third pregnancy with our rainbow baby. Now that I was showing, people acknowledged me as a mother, but my heart still ached for the two who made me a mom before.

Every Mother’s Day since has brought mixed emotions.

I’m joyous to celebrate with my two living children, but Mother’s Day always falls the same week as the should-be birthdates of my first two babies. I never know how I’m going to feel each year. Sometimes I grieve. Sometimes I celebrate. Usually, it’s a mixture of the two. 

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My heart goes out to all of you. It’s not all flowers or brunch or handmade cards. Sometimes Mother’s Day hurts. 

Be gentle with yourself. Let your heart feel without your judgment of how you should feel. Give yourself the space and the grace to sit with any of the feelings that arise. 

And for those who want to throw open the shades to let the light in and celebrate, regardless of the difficulties faced or current reality, celebrate away, Mama. You deserve to live out today as you wish. 

For all of those with a mother’s heart, Happy Mother’s Day.