Mother's Day After Losing Your Mom

I was about five months pregnant on the first Mother’s Day after my mom had passed away. Looking back, I hadn’t really started my grieving process. Or, I guess I technically had, but I was more in the denial phase. I even worked with a brand I love to update my dining room in preparation for Mother’s Day.

That probably wasn’t my best choice, but I tend to welcome creative distractions when the big, uncomfortable feelings are rising.

I got really good at staying busy. Work. Phone calls. To-do lists. Anything to avoid my own thoughts. This was especially true when it came to all of the firsts — Mother’s Day, becoming a mom, her birthday, the anniversary of her heavenly birthday. You get it. There are a lot of firsts.

For me, the buildup to the firsts was always worse than the day itself.

And when the day would arrive, I would just want to make it through. Because after all, the only way is through.

And you know what? I’ve gotten through them.

Here’s the thing: I don’t need a holiday to know just how much I miss my mom. I feel that every. single. day.

But the holidays make it more poignant.

Why do so many people around me still get to hug their moms on Mother’s Day, but I don’t?

How do I explain that to my six and four-year-old?

So no, I don’t get to call or hug her this year. But I do feel her in these moments:

• Getting the kids on the bus thinking about how she always drove me to the bus stop in her red conversion van

• Swearing to myself in the car after dropoff wanting to call her and ask “Seriously how did you do this with twins???”

• Kicking off a dance party in our kitchen

• Seeing a cardinal appear when we least expect it and one of the kids shout that she sees a cardinal in our backyard

• Catching up with some of her best friends that are an extension of family that feel like a warm hug

• Making her spaghetti sauce or baking banana bread with the kids

• Googling how to do something instead of calling her for step-by-step instructions then instinctively reaching for the phone anyway, because I still messed it up

I’m so grateful for the time that I had with her, but it doesn’t give me back the years I thought and wish she still had with us.

There’s grieving a loss and then there’s grieving the life you thought you’d have with a loved one.

If you’re navigating Mother’s Day without your mom this year, I’m sending extra love your way. There isn’t a rule book on how to feel, so know that there’s no right or wrong way to spend your day.

Cry if you need to. Laugh if you can. Talk about her. Lay in bed. Buy the flowers. Skip the brunch. Do whatever feels right for you.

xo