To the moms all alone on Mother's Day, I see you and you are enough.
Most of my 14 years of motherhood felt like Mother’s Day was spent alone, including some of the years I was married.
Every May, when the second Sunday in May comes around, I think of the women who are where I was in multiple places of my mother journey: scared, alone and envious of the moms with a supportive partner at home.
This year, I've written a letter to every single mother struggling to celebrate herself today, who feels inferior to the other families she sees.
When the flowers don't come, when there are no "thank yous," when there is no one posting our picture, I want us to remember where our gift truly lies.
To our kids, this is the life and this love is enough. So, we can raise our glass.
Dear, single mom on Mother's Day
Maybe you woke up a little early today to give yourself the gift of solitude. There is no one to tag in at the end of the day. It’s exhausting.
You might get a few minutes before feelings of inadequacy come flooding in. You are reminded of all the things you can't do, never seeing all that you have. You wonder how a single-parent home is affecting your kids, who will be down in a matter of moments.
Then, the day will begin just like any other day.
Maybe there were once flowers waiting for you. Maybe there were never flowers at all. You may find crumpled up Mother's Day art in your kids' backpack today, but they may not recognize that there should be anything to celebrate.
You will prepare every meal, answer every request, create every moment, wipe every tear and calm every fear. But your requests will be left unmet, your moments 60 seconds at a time, your tears wiped by your own hand and your fears, ever ponding.
Yet every day you show up and you do it, maybe with a little envy for the two-parent home down the street, because it's hard to be a full-time parent and a full-time provider. You can't possibly do either perfectly well.
If you're feeling discouraged today, seeing only your lack, look inside.
You are the creator of all the good that you see.
Tonight, when you tuck in your kids, witness your gifts.
There may have not been anything on the table this morning, you may have cleaned up the house and cooked every meal, but there is peace in the room. There is joy on their faces. There is a tangible love providing security like the blanket wrapped around their feet.
Your family is not inferior.
You are enough. Your kids know it, and some day someone else will too.
But it has to start with you.
My son was feeling left behind:What kids with autistic siblings want you to know.
Your married friend may be struggling, too
Single mothers should know that married mothers aren't necessarily better supported. Sure, they may have flowers, but just like you, they have learned how to water themselves.
There were Mother's Days when all I felt was hollow. There were flowers, photos, dinners and lots of hugs, but it obscured a darker reality. Presence doesn't equal support. Lonely doesn't equal alone.
Knowing my "enoughness" led me back into singleness and back to the mother I've always been. So, cherish where you are and never trade your peace for support. Recognize yourself and celebrate this day.
Last year, I bought myself a bouquet of wildflowers, and this year, I bought myself a few.
My gift is this home I've created and the peace I feel at night. Sure, it may be a little messy, but it is far from inferior.
When I release my kids into the world, they will take this love that they've been given and begin planting it in places of their own, definitely better than if they had grown up in our broken two-parent home.
Yet I know that you, like me, may have a desire to share your life with someone. Just make sure that they are a seer too, a seer of your worth and your "enoughness," on more than just this special day.