Mother's Day...meh.

plus a special zoom invitation

A year ago this weekend, I was in the hospital recovering from a total hysterectomy in a private room on the maternity ward. How’s that for ironic? It was just a little over a month after Annie died and fortunately, I think I was still numb—and drugged—to be upset about it.

Mother’s Day that year was celebrated at my house with the family, and it was a very low-key day. My concern was for Luca—and wanting him to know we would always celebrate his mom. I also thought he’d be aware that I was a mom, too, and would want to do something special for me. (He’s super thoughtful that way.) And it was Kelli’s first celebration as a Mom and I knew Annie definitely would have wanted us to make sure we did something for her, too. It was complicated, but fine—my family knows how to show up for the important things.

But, last year aside, Mother’s Day for me for the past several years has been kind of—well, meh. Once my Mom died in 2017, the observance began to lose some of its specialness. I didn’t think it would, but when I walked into the card section of Walgreen’s to pick up some cards for the other mothers in my life that year, tears caught in my throat as I strummed through the “To my Mother” section. The next year, we lost my sister and forget it—making alternate plans was fine, plus, we had my Dad with us and everything we did was different after that. What used to be a brunch at my house with everyone pitching in to clean up our porch and patio and get it ready for spring, was more of a “where can we do this, how and when?” situation. Not that it wasn’t cheerful or lovely—just more of a box to check off my to-do list.

I’m not an anti-Mother’s Day activist—when those weird emails come in March from companies offering to stop sending the Mother’s Day promotions, I just delete them. I don’t fall into a funk or black out the 2^nd Sunday in May on the calendar. Almost every woman I know is a mother and I am completely in favor of all of them being celebrated in the manner they desire—flowers, brunches, gifts, handmade cards—the whole “she”-bang.

But the day feels different now and this year seems harder…it just does. It will never not be hard. I will never not miss her. I will never not wish she was here to direct the menu, choose the time, bring the fun treats and bubbles. I feel a little tug of guilt that I’m not doing a better job at celebrating my other mothers—daughters still in my life—but maybe that will evolve at some point. For me, an acknowledgement of the absence is required as well as a recognition of the present in the best way I can.

So, we will gather on Sunday—and it will be fine. And a lot different. And that’s just going to have to be okay.

How do you feel about a quick Zoom check in?

I’ll be online at 11am ET/8am PST for about an hour or so if you just want to pop in and say a little bit about what this day is like for you. Knowing me, I’ll probably have some writing prompts up my sleeve. Maybe a mimosa. The link below will bring you to the registration page. Hope to see you then.

You are invited to a Zoom meeting.
When: May 11, 2025 11:00 AM Eastern Time (US and Canada)
Register in advance for this meeting:
https://us02web.zoom.us/meeting/register/SNAMLYhbStSQRc7p9ijfdQ

After registering, you will receive a confirmation email containing information about joining the meeting.

More Resources on mother loss:

James Crews- https://www.jamescrews.net/

Hope Edelman – https://www.hopeedelman.com/

Angela Schellenberg - https://www.angelaschellenberg.com/

Weird non sequitur incoming . . .

(is “weird non sequitur” redundant?)

Sorry, I’m stalling…I hate writing about this and I never know when to bring it up, so since this is an atypical post, I’ll just drop it here. It’s about paid subscriptions. I know there’s a button that says “Upgrade to Paid” on all my posts, but I think that’s a Substack thing, not mine—it’s not me asking. Some newsletters have so-called paid content, like being able to post comments, or view videos or join in community chats. But I don’t have anything like that—just a bunch of weekly essays and occasionally a podcast upon which everyone can comment.

The reason I keep the paid part on my newsletter is that, in the age of the digital publishing, it’s one way that writers can make a living. Or at least keep themselves in pens and notebooks. All my stuff is free, all the time. I know not everyone can afford paid subscriptions—I subscribe to over 100 newsletters and only pay for a half a dozen of them. And I change them up from time to time. So, I just wanted to share my perspective on the whole paid subscription thing. Whatever you choose, just know I’m really glad you’re here.

Or, to put it in the immortal words of Rick Astley . . .

Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye

Ever. xo