When Mother’s Day Is Painful

“Did you have a nice Mother’s Day?” I’ve heard that question often this week, and you probably have, too. But sometimes there isn’t an easy answer, especially if your Mother’s Day didn’t feel like a Hallmark holiday, because sometimes we’re in the middle of circumstances that are far from what we imagined. In the moments of recognition that “this isn’t what it’s supposed to be“, we can feel isolated by our differences and devastated by our reality. This place where we envisioned joy and fulfillment can bring deep (and often unexpected) pain. Few women talk about this side of motherhood at Mother’s Day. When you scroll through social media around these types of holidays, it looks like everyone else has a picture-perfect family and Instagram-worthy celebration. When our world doesn’t match what we see, we can experience an additional layer of pain. And the hard part is that we can’t control any of it. But while we can’t change our circumstances, we can find healing and comfort through prayer.

Through my experiences, I’ve realized that far more women know the pain of Mother’s Day than we see on social media. When we are grieving or going through a difficult time, we keep it to ourselves because it stands in opposition to the societal implications of this day. There are many reasons for our pain: we’ve lost (or become separated) from our mother, we want (but do not have) a child, we’re experiencing relational strain (with a mother or child), our child has died, or maybe the path of mothering has left us with a heavy heart.

You’re Not Alone

If these scenarios apply, I want you to know you’re not alone. In our place of grief or identification of loss, there is One who knows our pain, and He carries it within his heart. God feels our pain. His arms of love enfold us because He is the God of all comfort. When we go through times of trouble, He walks with us along every path, each step of the way. I can tell you this because I’ve walked a journey of grief and know the deep pain of loss. My first daughter was born at 26 weeks of pregnancy and died 20 minutes after her birth. From the time I was a child, I had dreamed of becoming a mother, but I never envisioned my pregnancy ending in such a profound loss.

The death of a child is all-encompassing. It affects our present moment and every plan. While pregnant, we imagine the color of their hair and eyes. We wonder how tall they will be and if they will look more like their father or mother. But we don’t think about coming home from the hospital without them; we don’t imagine Mother’s Day as a grieving mother.

I remember the agony of that season. I couldn’t envision surviving the loss of my daughter. Mother’s Day came six months after her death, and I wanted to pretend it didn’t exist. On that Sunday, I stayed home from church. I couldn’t face the other mothers and how our church would honor them. It’s not that I was jealous; it’s just that grief is a journey, and I was still finding my way through.

Finding Your Way Through Grief

Grief is more than physical loss. Mother’s Day can inflict feelings of grief for many different reasons. And contrary to previous beliefs, we now know that there aren’t systematic stages of grief. Grief is not linear, and we navigate it best when we are gentle with ourselves. You’ll find more on giving yourself grace while grieving in my post: Understanding Grief & Giving Grace When It’s Not Linear.

Grief is inconvenient; sometimes, we see it coming, and other days, it sneaks up when we least expect it, but just as grief comes, so does God. I’ve found God in the lonely moments of my sorrow, and He’s carried me through each season. It was more difficult to see Him amid my grief when I lost my first daughter. It was the first time I’d ever gone through a personally profound loss. I had to learn to find Him. I wanted to find Him, but some days, it was hard to see through the pain.

As I sought him out, I heard His subtle whispers, felt His presence in the beauty of ordinary moments, and saw the reminders of His love for me. In that first grief season, I asked Him many questions but received few answers. I also fought against my reality. I didn’t want “this”. I wanted a child. I wanted answers. Why was this happening to me? And the harder I fought, the more I felt frustrated. But then I realized God was inviting me into a season of healing and discovery instead of simply giving me all the answers I thought I needed.

Finding God in Grief

I saw God differently through that season. While I always believed His plan was redemption (we see that in the life of Jesus), I started to find His redemption in my season of loss. It happened when I stopped trying to fight against my reality. (It was as if I stopped fighting Him.) I let go of my desire for control. I felt God asking me to open my hands and release the things I’d held on to for so long (my desire for a child). As I opened my hands, my heart opened too, and I started to tell God anything (and everything).

Through our constant conversation, I realized He was always with me, and I was comforted. While my circumstances didn’t change, I changed. And that’s what prayer does—it changes us. My perspective shifted. Relinquishing my desire for control brought freedom. I found life in this place of surrender. Often, we think of surrender as giving up, but surrendering to God is different. As we surrender, we acknowledge who He is (loving, faithful, constant, redeemer) and stand by faith that He’s at work even when we can’t see it (yet). It wasn’t enough for me to surrender once; it was a daily challenge. And some days, it was easier than others. This simple but complex decision changed everything. I no longer tried to control my circumstances and make life work as I wanted. Instead, what I desired most was to see God at work in my life. He gave me places of purpose even in circumstances I did not like.

Learning to Surrender

If you’re feeling the weight of grief or discouragement in your current season, I invite you to let go of the things you desperately want to control. Open your hands and surrender them to God. Maybe you’re here because you’re dealing with the loss of a child or the loss of a mother, or perhaps you haven’t experienced the joy of mothering the precious child you long to hold. There is freedom waiting for you on the other side of this decision. As you let go of the desire for control, you’ll also release the pain, disappointment, and discouragement you feel right now.

Jesus is our source of comfort. You don’t have to know how it will work, and you don’t need to see the entire process laid out systematically before you. All that’s required now is a willingness to take the first step. Prayer is, at its core, a conversation between us and God. If you have a complicated history with prayer or feel like it’s a place of disconnection, let’s lay aside the past to embrace a different perspective. We can find comfort through prayer. It draws us closer and is where we pour out the pain in our hearts. Prayer is a source of strength in our darkest hours. It’s a powerful tool as we walk through a difficult season.

Comfort Through Prayer

Join me in the following prayer: “God, I come to you with weariness from my present circumstances. I’m frustrated with all I’m holding right now. When I look across the landscape of my life, I feel discouraged by the battles I’ve faced, the places where I feel like I’ve lost, and the many obstacles that lie ahead. I want more than “this”. But I can’t do it on my own. And as much as I feel stuck in this moment, God, I believe you are good and have good plans for my future. I embrace the words You spoke through Jeremiah (29:11-14), I believe you have “plans to give me the future that I’ve hoped for, that you listen to me, and that when I look, I’ll find you“ (The Message). I place my hope in Your unfailing love; help me to find Your comfort and renewal. God, I’m looking for you, calling to you, and searching for you. Meet me in this moment and help me see more than the circumstances I’m walking through right now. You are the God of all comfort. Please hold me in your loving arms and comfort me now. God, I open my hands and surrender. Show me the way through this season of mourning; help me find moments of joy as I walk through the coming days.“ ​

There’s no pressure to say “the right words,“ if a more traditional prayer works for you, then embrace it—sit quietly and focus on God. But if you want to go outside, take a walk, and talk with God, just like you would with friends or family members, give yourself the grace to pray that way. You can begin by saying “Dear God or Father God,“ you can close in “Jesus’ name,“ or you can keep it more casual and focus on the sincerity of conversational, heartfelt prayers. What you say isn’t as important as expressing your thoughts and feelings. And God’s presence is with you whether you say your prayer out loud or within your heart. He is the God of all comfort and brings comfort through prayer. God bends his ear close, and he listens to you. He has compassion for you and is even more attentive than you would be to a grieving friend.

Surrounding Yourself With Support

And friend, if you’re traveling this path of sorrow, I encourage you to reach out to your friends, family, coach, or counselor. We need additional support when we are walking through the darkness of grief. We need someone to help light the way for us. Please share this article with them and allow them to step into a place of practical help and emotional support. When we talk about the reality of our heavy burdens with another, they don’t have to fix it; they don’t need to tell us how to find our way through; instead, the power of sharing our struggles means that we do not carry them alone.

If you’re reading this because a friend shared it with you, thank you for holding your dear friend’s heart so close. You are living proof of God’s goodness, and your presence is powerful. Just by sitting in this space with them, you are a guiding light, bringing divine comfort to their weary soul. 

Grief is not the end of the story. It’s not the end of my story, and it’s not the end of yours. The darkest moments of my life have birthed a legacy through my life. For more, listen to Episode 20 from my podcast, To Help You Heal.

Your feelings about Mother’s Day are valid and shared by many, even if they’re left unspoken. If you find yourself wrestling with sorrow, reach out—you are not alone. Together, we can redefine this day not just as one of celebration but as one of understanding and mutual support. Let us make room for every story, tear, and laugh, giving grace for the ways we experience love and loss. In sharing our stories, we find strength and healing along the way.

Grief is complicated, and the grieving process can feel more difficult during the holidays. For me, the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas often bring unexpected reminders of loss. And I don’t know why it surprises me. Loss is an inevitable part of life, and so is grief. But often, we want to attach time limits or set timeframes on our emotions, or only engage them when it’s convenient. But grief doesn’t work that way.

In 1997, I lost my first daughter at 26 weeks of pregnancy; she was born premature and died in my arms 20 minutes after her birth. In 2006, my first husband committed the Amish schoolhouse shooting. Within a few hours, I went from the everyday predictability of life as a stay-at-home mom to the unknown as a widowed single parent. And then, in 2011, I lost my father after his eight-month battle with lung cancer. I hold a bachelor’s degree in psychology and have spent much time studying the impact of trauma. I understand grief from a personal and professional standpoint.

Here is what I know: grief is not linear. It comes when we least expect it and usually when it’s inconvenient. Contrary to previous beliefs, there isn’t a path of predictable stages—a more individualized view of the grieving process has replaced the Kubler-Ross model. While you may feel anger, denial, acceptance, times of bargaining, depression, guilt, and other emotions, they will ebb and flow and sometimes come back after you thought you had already worked through them. And this understanding gives us grace for our process because there isn’t a wrong way to grieve. Your way is the right way.

Often, the most intense part of the grieving process lasts six to twelve months, while everyday grief experiences can last through the first two years. We may feel like we’ve lost our sense of purpose, have an aversion to activities we once enjoyed, feel numb, have trouble embracing the reality of life without our loved one, and experience times of intense emotion. We’ll have good days and bad days. This is normal.

Common Misconceptions About Grief

Some say that time heals all wounds, but this isn’t true. Grief doesn’t get easier as time passes. Instead, we learn how to navigate life without the person we’ve lost. We’ve never done life this way before, and it is hard. We find ourselves wanting to call them on the phone, send a text, or we think about something we want to say the next time we see them. And then reality comes crashing back in, reminding us that these conversations won’t happen.

My dad passed away on Christmas Eve morning, almost eleven years ago. And in the following season, I had to learn how to live without him. I was used to talking to my dad daily and visiting him several times each week. We had a close relationship, and it was hard to think about the reality of this new version of my life.

It was a gradual letting go, and some days were easier than others. I wanted to hold tight to my dad’s presence, his memories—his love. I didn’t want to accept the reality that he was gone. And nothing was healing about the passage of time. In the years since his death, I’ve gotten better at living without him. I’ve “built these muscles,” after eleven years of practice, I can acknowledge that it’s not as hard as it was those first few years.

But sometimes, the comments we hear from others cause us to question ourselves. They infer that we should be “back to normal,” when it’s hard to find normal again. They want to place a time frame on our process. And it causes us to question if we’re doing it the wrong way, but the truth is, they may not have first-hand experience with this type of loss. Or our grief may trigger a memory that causes them pain.

Throughout the first year, we’re embracing the birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries we once shared with the person we’ve lost. And within each “celebration” is the reminder that this new reality is painful.

Giving Grace While Grieving

And the most important thing we can do is give ourselves grace for this season. Grace looks like scaling back our expectations, embracing our emotions, and telling ourselves we’re doing it correctly. Giving grace means mourning traditions while embracing new ones, allowing ourselves to feel both happy and sad simultaneously, and creating boundaries when necessary. In our grief journey, we need a support system. We need friends and family members we can count on to help us through the hard days.

It’s okay if you’re stuck in grief and didn’t put up your Christmas tree this year. It’s okay to avoid certain traditions or people because you don’t want to deal with additional layers of pain. You will not look back and feel like you should’ve kept the traditions. Instead, as you learn to give yourself grace, you can look back and know that this was a different kind of year, where you prioritized your emotional well-being. And that’s a good thing.

You’re not weak or broken, and you will find your way through. But your path is uniquely yours. You can gather suggestions and perspectives from those who’ve walked a similar grief path, but your journey won’t look exactly like theirs. There isn’t a one-size-fits-all program for grief recovery. You can choose what this looks like, and your choices may vary daily.

Along Your Grief Journey

Each day, you’re choosing to do your best with what you have. Your best today will undoubtedly feel different than your best tomorrow. And just because you had a good day today doesn’t guarantee a good one tomorrow. But as you allow yourself the space (and grace) necessary to process your loss, you will heal. And as tempting as it is to try to push the feelings aside and pretend it doesn’t matter, avoidance won’t lead to healing. It only delays the inevitable. And if we try to dismiss our pain, it usually leaks over into other areas of our life, and we take it out on those we love.

If I could go back to my first loss (the loss of my daughter), I’d tell myself that this would be one of the most painful seasons of life, and there would be days that I’d feel like I wasn’t going to make it. But the best way through the pain is to allow someone else to walk with me. One close (trustworthy) friend or family member makes a huge difference. Because as we share with them, we’re no longer the only one carrying the load.

Resources To Help You Heal

So, friend, if you’re walking a grief path this season, ask someone to walk with you. Invite them into your journey and remind them that you’re not asking them to fix it; you simply need them to listen. Talk about the person you’ve lost, find meaningful ways to honor their memory, and give yourself grace for each moment.

Grief shows us that we’re still alive inside, and it honors the legacy of the one we lost. They mattered. As we embrace the grieving process, we will find healing.

You can find additional insights on grief through my podcast and book entitled, To Help You Heal. Look for podcast Episodes 21 & 22 focused on dealing with grief. You can find To Help You Heal (podcast) on Apple, Spotify, or wherever you like to  listen to podcasts, as well as my website. You’ll find the book on Amazon, or grab a signed copy from my website! If you need help walking through your grieving journey, send me a message. I’d love to support you!

You’re not alone.

Five days after our first anniversary, my husband and I lost our daughter.  I was 26 weeks pregnant and went into labor.  It was hard and fast.  There was nothing the doctors could do to stop it, and our daughter lived only 20 minutes.  The grief and shock were intense.  While I was medically fine, emotionally I was pretty sure that I would die too.

Two weeks later was Thanksgiving.  I felt like I was living in some kind of alternate reality, just going through the motions of life and trying to get through it as quickly as possible.  I did not want to face the holidays.  I could hardly handle my grief on a normal day; I could not imagine surviving the weight of it mixed with holiday “celebrations”.

Holidays are hard when you’re grieving.  Period.

That year, my parents said that they were bringing a Christmas tree, ordering pizza and helping us decorate.  My mom didn’t give me space to argue.  We couldn’t have done it without them.  We wanted to decorate, but couldn’t muster up the strength to do it ourselves.  When you’re grieving, normal life feels like walking through quick sand.  Every little thing tries to pull you under.

 

That year, and in the time since, I’ve learned a lot about grieving.  I’ve received some tremendous kindness, as well as empty words, along the way.  I totally understand that if you haven’t walked through deep loss, it can feel hard to know how to help.

So I’m going to help you.  These are my top 3 things that everyone needs to know.

1. Don’t try to fix it, because you can’t. Do not say things like, God allows things for a reason, this will make you stronger, at least they aren’t suffering anymore, or just think of all the good memories you had together. Instead, tell them you are sorry. Tell them your heart is breaking for them.  Tell them that you love them and you are walking through this with them.  Say it often, and with the actions to back it up (we’ll get to those next).
2. Be present and proactive. Don’t tell your friend to call if they need something.  They won’t call.  And the reason is complicated.  It’s partly because they don’t know exactly what they need, partly because they don’t want to tell you how bad they hurt, and partly because they’re not sure what you really want to do.  Don’t ask yes or no type questions or make open-ended statements. Instead, say something specific like, “I’m going to bring dinner one night next week, is Monday or Thursday best for you?”  “Let’s go to a movie, my treat, here are the show times for tomorrow night.” “I’m going to the grocery store Friday, I’ll pick you up on the way and we can shop together.” Don’t give them space to argue.
3. Honor the one they’ve lost. Your grieving friend feels the pain of their loss.  It’s profound.  It’s piercing, and it touches everything.  Grief is a pit that sucks you in, and it can feel like there’s no way out.  Climb in to that pit with them, and stay there.  You don’t have to say anything, no positive phrases needed. They just need to know that you’re willing to be in it with them.

Grieving is a dark, lonely place.  Your love won’t heal the loss, but it will help light the way through their pain.  I’m sure you’re thinking of someone right now that you could reach out to.  It might feel scary to you, but embrace your fear and do it anyway.  They NEED you.  In the days ahead, they might just say that your love was the only reason they were able to survive the holidays.