An Unmothered Mother’s Day
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Key Takeaways
Mother’s Day can be a difficult time for those experiencing mother loss, infertility, childlessness, or a difficult relationship with a mother figure
International Bereaved Mother’s Day is held on May 5. This is a day to create a space for anyone who has been touched by childloss.
Connecting with community to process grief and loss can help make new meaning of the day
The corner bookstore, pharmacy and grocery are all stocked and stacked with Mother’s Day cards. The emails for fancy brunches and “best of” gift lists for Mom, fill my inbox to overflowing. It is that time of year again, when my heart hurts and my body knows “it” is here.
I never know exactly when grief may wash over, but this seems to be my griefy season. Sometimes it is also in the Fall, on Mom’s birthday, which comes just a week after mine. In recent years my own “birth day” has been glazed in a bittersweet malaise.
Sometimes it’s a glance over at her beloved Malomars in the cookie aisle, or waiting in line and spotting a stash of Goldenberg’s Peanut Chews at check out. In the early years, just tossing Bounty paper towel in my cart, could take me out. “Buy Bounty or nothing at all.” she said. So I do.
For years I just suffered this Hallmark induced Sunday silently. All of its meaning had left the building when Mom did. Sometimes I would duck into a movie and try to just wait it out in the dark.
In the years that followed and I had my first daughter, Emma, my little family wanted to celebrate ME. Oh, but how complicated it felt to be a mother without a mother. I found grief support the year I had Emma. Being in the world as a Mom without her, brought up grief I had never known, and lots I had clearly never processed. Looking back, I didn’t really know it was ever there or needed to be intentionally tended to.
In 1993, when she died, there were precious few resources for grief support. The most important and secure attachment I knew was taken from me in an instant, and nobody thought to even whisper the idea. Twenty-somethings can be an oft forgotten group when it comes to societal support. Your pre-frontal cortex has just come “on-line” somewhere in the middle of the 20s and most folks treat you as if you are a full-on adult.
Mother’s Day has different meaning for different people.
While it is not science-backed, I believe that there is a silent changing of the guard to “official adult” when you lose a parent. It is unspoken, but suddenly you are on your own in the world and in charge of yourself, in a new and staggering way.
I returned to work when the house quieted from visitors. This was about a week after the funeral. I owned a PR agency back then, was married and had an apartment in New York City. My stepfather headed back to his law firm, my sister onto a plane to her new job in Denver. She was a fresh college grad in her early 20s and first gig out of school. A “return to normal” seemed the unspoken expectation.
There was a lot more, “you are strong like her and at least you are married and she was at the wedding”, than anyone asking what kind of support or grief counseling any of us may have needed. I realized later, from a brilliant and trauma informed therapist, that the sudden loss was indeed trauma. Losing her without warning one day at the beach was a devastating shock and it lived in my bones. I had the most beautiful relationship with her and so did my sister. Mom called us at least once a day. She was plugged in to the minutiae of our lives. Her pride in our work was what every kid deserves. And she was gone. In a minute. No good-byes or warning.
In the years that followed, I met motherless daughters everywhere I would go. I felt as if I must be wearing a sign on my back, or had some kind of magnet on my heart. The connections were always illuminating. I did not realize how much shame I held, in not understanding how to move forward without her. This “arrested development” or state of suspended adolescence made me feel childlike. Years later, I am still interrogating the me on this side of motherloss.
I left NY for Chicago after she died. It was a move she would have never allowed, or at least been very happy about. Moving felt like a middle finger to her death. And a great escape.
Years in, I thought it may be time to “take back the night”. The Saturday before Mother’s Day, I held the first Unmothered Mother’s Day Circle. This was long before The Memory Circle was officially official. My dear friend and teacher Amy Owen and I joined women in a support circle, where we shared yoga and prompted writing. I have done some iteration of this annually ever since.
This year I am back in NY, after years of hosting this in Chicago. Lingua Franca, of “sweetly stitched sweater fame”, has offered to host us in the West Village. We will gather to welcome in the day together on May 7, at 6 pm, on Jane Street. Seems a wink from my Mom, Ellen Jane. JOIN US — the ticket price will help raise funds for Every Mother Counts.
Find information and buy tickets here.
Tips for Those Experiencing Loss or Grief at Mother’s Day
Grieving a loss can be lonely. Being in community can remind us we are never alone. Traditionally folks would come to The Memory Circle who had experienced mother loss, but also infertility, childlessness, a difficult relationship with a mother/mother figure or were estranged. Being able to connect in community and process loss has been essential. From movement to writing and a thoughtful exchange of meaningful conversation — we can make new meaning of the day.
Some tips for coping with loss and grief at Mother’s Day:
Create a circle of peers on a day before or on Mother's Day to craft a special space.
Reach out to a friend who has experienced motherloss and see how you can help reframe the day.
Whether you send a book of poetry or a text, let someone know you are remembering them — or their Mom.
Always ask the name of a child or mother who has died. Ask for a story about them or a fond memory. Mark the loss on your calendar so you can check in on the anniversary of the loss as well.
Help to create a memorial or memory making activity.
Plant a tree, light a candle, place a bench or memorial plaque, host a fundraising tennis match or fun run
Make a favorite meal together or go to a beloved restaurant, coffee or tea spot.
Create a collage or community art project or mural of remembrance.
Have a dance party or create a memorable mix that reminds you of your loved one.
Start a journaling practice or a Substack where you remember by sharing your work and words.
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