May 1st is International Bereaved Mother's Day

Don’t worry, lonely mama. There’s a day just for you.

Image courtesy of Pixabay

If you’re a mother who has lost a child there's a day lovingly dedicated to you. And you get to experience it a week earlier than you’re used to.

Unfortunately, no mother on earth would brag about moving to the front of this line.

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The first Sunday of every May is International Bereaved Mother’s Day. This year it falls on May 1st.

I didn’t know such an occasion existed until last year when it became my occasion. A friend sent me blessings and virtual hugs on my very first one.

I don’t think anyone knows about it unless they’ve become one of us.

The real Mother’s Day hits especially hard for those of us who only had one child. We will never again hear the words, “Happy Mother’s Day” from the only person we want to hear it from.

Sure, everyone else can say it but it doesn’t even come close.

Image courtesy of Pixabay

Last year on the real Mother’s Day I became the crazy woman who had a full-blown meltdown in public and made every bystander feel awkward and uncomfortable.

I had gone to buy a dozen red roses for myself.

The flower lady made the mistake of asking if they were for my mother. I had to tell her the truth. The flowers were for me because it was my first Mother’s Day without my son.

My words sporadically spilled out in between hysterical sobs like a three-year-old in the middle of a tantrum. Hallelujah for pandemics and masks. No one could see the true unsightliness of my ugly cry.

In hindsight, I should have just lied and said they were for my mother.

We need to start celebrating “Otherhood”

Not long after Curtis died, I purchased the domain FormerlyMom.com. It was going to be a very sad blog indeed.

I sat on it for months before deciding not to use it. The more I thought about it the more it felt like an insult to the title I held for twenty-eight years, three months, and twenty-five days.

Curtis is still my son and he always will be.

(Plus, I didn’t want to risk getting haunted by an angry ghost-kid whose mother had forsaken him!)

All of our children remain our kids, no matter what form they currently exist in. We’ve got the stretch marks to prove it.

We still talk to them every day, we still go places together, and they’re still the first person who comes to mind when we think, “Remember that time…?”

So please, if you’re a lonely mama who has lost a child, take time to proudly celebrate yourself.

You’re still here holding it together.

You’re still (begrudgingly) marching forward.

You still say “my son” or “my daughter” in conversations about them.

You still say their name after everyone else has stopped.

The first Sunday of every May is Internation Bereaved Mother’s Day. Give yourself a well-deserved break today and pass this on to anyone else who needs to hear it.

We’re with you, with tons of love.

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You might find a little smile in your back pocket while reading this piece I wrote about my very first Mother’s Day alone.

Motherhood is a Career and I’ve Basically Been Fired