Mothers Day Can Suck Sometimes
Here are some small acts that might make it easier
“Arise, all women who have hearts, whether your baptism be that of water or of tears! Say firmly: “We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies, our husbands shall not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause.” - Julia Ward Howe
Never-Mothers, Mourning Mothers, and Struggling Mothers
When I’ve written about Mother’s Day in the past, I’ve drawn from my own sometimes awkward dance with motherhood and, more than once, I’ve shared the instructive, funny, loving letters my mother wrote to me over the years. I still cherish my memories as a mother to my son, and every day I reflect on how grateful I am that fate gave me the mother I have.
This year, though, I can’t tunnel inward as easily. For the past year, I’ve been reading accounts like this one about how mothers have suffered through the pandemic: mothers who have lost children, mothers who have lost mothers, mothers who have struggled to work, teach, feed, house, and clothe their families in a country without policies in place to protect them.
I am thinking, too, of women who don’t look forward to Mother’s Day for reasons that may have nothing to do with the pandemic. In her recent essay, Margaret Renkl explores how loaded a holiday this can be for some women:
“It’s terrible for those who mourn a mother now gone, and also for those whose mothers were just not equipped to nurture a child. It’s terrible for women who desperately wanted to be mothers but couldn’t be, and also for women who didn’t want to be mothers but are too often vilified for that perfectly reasonable choice. It’s beyond terrible for women who have lost a child.” - Margaret Renkl, “Mother’s Day Can Be Painful. It Can Also Reconnect Us to the World,” New York Times.
In my own family and circle of friends, I know women who mourn their dead mothers, who suffered at their mothers’ hands, who wanted to be mothers but couldn’t be, and those whose choice not to mother has been questioned by strangers and friends alike, including me. And I’m thinking very hard right now of three women in my life who have lost a child - one an infant and the other two, young men in their twenties. This day will pass as days do and each of these women will come out the other side, as they have learned to do. They brace themselves for their Facebook feeds to be filled with photo after photo of children and mothers -- beaming faces, bouquets, brimming expressions of gratitude that can sometimes sound a little like bragging. They are generous with their support and “likes” and “loves.” They do not begrudge the joy of others or demand that their particular pain be recognized today. They forgive those of us who don’t know how to acknowledge the brief lives of their children or the joy that mingles with the facts that seem only sad to us.
I’m thinking of the mothers who shelter and care for adult children who cannot live on their own because of illness or ability and may not have someone to make them a meal or give them a few hours to go soak in a hot bath.
I’m thinking about the mothers who are separated from their children by prison, by immigration policies, choices they’ve regretted or choices that life has forced them to make.
I’m also thinking of the women who mother other people’s children: stepmothers, the grandmothers who thought they were done with raising kids, the aunts, the older sisters who themselves are orphans, and foster parents.
I’ve spent a big chunk of the past few years writing a novel about two grandmothers who are trying to get their orphaned granddaughter to adulthood. My research has led me to the stories of remarkable women who struggle to find the energy and resources they need for their charges, and themselves. I am filled with admiration. I once believed that if events evolved in a way that left me with a child to raise, I’d almost welcome the chance for another shot at it all.
I no longer believe this. I’m reminded every day how glad I am that I am not raising a child now, at my age, with the world the way it is. There, I’ve said it. A voice inside me protests, calls me selfish. The voice taunts me with the reminders of my hubris -- some might call it ignorance - when I rejected the idea that an adoptive mother would be better for my son than my 18-year-old self. Where, my inner voice asks, is that optimism, that confidence that my capacity to love would never run dry? I’ve learned this much: love takes a mother pretty far but health, income, energy, a village of supportive souls, and public policies that make it possible for them and their children to thrive are all critical to success. As this past year has made painfully clear, these things are absent for far too many women.
Which brings me to what I think I need to do this Mother’s Day. Instead of comfortably wrapping myself in my own experiences of mothering and being mothered, I need to go back to the roots of the holiday itself. Mother’s Day did not begin as a day for hearts, flowers, and breakfast in bed. It began with women of action who believed that the combined strength of mothers could bring about change. For Ann Reeves Jarvis, that change meant improving sanitary conditions and healthcare for women and children in Appalachia through “Mother’s Day Work Clubs.” For pacifist, activist, and suffragist Julia Ward Howe it meant proposing a “Mother’s Day of Peace,” that would harness the energy of mothers to work for peace and eradicate war. For Anna Jarvis, it meant campaigning for a nation-wide day, Mother’s Day, to honor her mother so that the work she did would not be forgotten and would continue. In fact, when she saw how the holiday, once approved, became commercialized and trivialized, she used most of her savings seeking to remove the day from the list of national observances. She died broke and, as we know, unsuccessful.
Still, it seems to me that Mother’s Day still offers a day to explore opportunities for actions, large and small, global and personal that may turn Mother’s Day into something even more special. I’ve found a few links to help me get started and am sharing them here if you would like to join me. If you know of more resources or if you can share your own insights about the day with the rest of us, please do. Use the comments section or, if you are shy, write to me and I will add them to the comments section for others to see.
First, the personal
Many of us have loved ones or friends who have struggled or continue to struggle with the loss of a child or infertility. And, especially this past year, many have lost their mothers. I’m struck by the universality of advice that writers offer on these subjects. Begin with a simple statement, “I’m thinking of you today.” Refrain at all costs from offering advice, a personal story, or a well-meaning attempt to cheer a person by “looking at the bright side.” Just open the door, remain present no matter how uncomfortable you may feel. The biggest gift we can offer is letting our loved one know that they are not alone, that it is okay to talk or not talk, that they do not have to hide their pain to make us more comfortable. Here are some links that go into more detail:
When Your Friend Does Not Have Children: this essay provides insight to the challenges of maintaining a friendship and here’s a straightforward checklist for how to be a better friend when you have kids but your friend has chosen not to have them. Common thread: check your assumptions, judgments, photos, and kid stories at the door. Honor their choice and don’t assume that they want what you want.
Help Unite Mothers and Children
Incarcerated mothers convicted of a crime can be separated for years from their children but many mothers don’t have to be convicted - they may only be too poor to afford to post bail. An estimated 70 percent of those incarcerated are heads of households and the primary caregivers for their children. National Bail Out grew out of a grassroots program called Black Mamas Bailout that has, for the past five years, worked to bail Black women and those who identify as women out of jail in the weeks before Mother’s Day. Related bail out programs have been aimed to free those held in lieu of bail during Covid or during recent protests. The organization provides ongoing support and assistance to those who are bailed out. You can learn more and donate (tax deductible) here at National Bail Out.
These three organizations support efforts to reunite children with their families after being separated at the border under past immigration policies. You can donate to the International Rescue Committee and sign this petition sponsored by the ACLUand donate to Project Corazon, led by Lawyers For Good Government, which offers legal assistance, helps to reunite families, and assists with travel expenses.
Support Legislation To Support Working Mothers
Affordable childcare and family leave are among the proposals included in the president’s American Family Plan. I’m contacting my representatives in Congress and the U.S. Senate to let them know that I support these proposals and to ask their support.
No Spark Next Week
I’ll end here today. Next week I will be enjoying some quality time with my stepdaughter and her husband for the first time in a very long time so I will not be sending out a newsletter. I will be available by email though and will be checking comments so please let me know how you are and what you are reading. And if you are looking for a new book to read, check out the Spark Community Recommendations page at bookshop.org where every purchase supports local bookstores and helps us to raise money for literacy programs.
Here are few selections from our store to commemorate Mother’s Day:
Peace and love, and all good things. See you in a couple of weeks.
Betsy
P.S. And now your moment of Zen…After grief, a birth
She’s called “J-35” but in 2018, the world knew her as the orca who carried her dead calf for 17 days before letting him go. Last September, she gave birth to a new calf, “J-57.” The survival rate for calves is 50% in the first 12 months. So far, so good.
Calling for Your Contribution to “Moment of Zen”
What is YOUR moment of Zen? Send me your photos, a video, a drawing, a song, a poem, or anything with a visual that moved you, thrilled you, calmed you. Or just cracked you up. This feature is wide open for your own personal interpretation.
Come on, go through your photos, your memories or just keep your eyes and ears to the ground and then share. Send your photos/links, etc. to me by replying to this email or simply by sending to: elizabethmarro@substack.com. The main guidelines are probably already obvious: don’t hurt anyone -- don’t send anything that violates the privacy of someone you love or even someone you hate, don’t send anything divisive, or aimed at disparaging others. Our Zen moments are to help us connect, to bond, to learn, to wonder, to share -- to escape the world for a little bit and return refreshed.
I can’t wait to see what you send!
you are so right. we never know how this day may impact someone, based on their personal experience. i love the day of action approach.