As Mother’s Day approaches, many of us feel a quiet stirring inside—a mix of joy, nostalgia, and maybe even sadness. It’s a day that can bring warmth and celebration, but also reflection and grief.
Whether you’re a mother, missing your mother, healing your relationship with her, or mourning what never was, this time of year touches something deep in the heart. And if you’re a mother missing your child—for whatever reason that separates you—know that your ache is valid, your love is not forgotten, and you are not alone.
There are moments—quiet, fleeting, sometimes triggered by a scent, a song, or an old photograph—that take us back to the beginning of our journey as mothers. They remind us who we were before we had children. And sometimes, they remind us of all the ways we lost pieces of ourselves along the way.
Motherhood changes everything. It stretches your heart, your mind, and your capacity for pain and joy. It teaches you to love in a way that defies logic—and to worry in ways that never quite go away. But perhaps one of the most complex parts of being a mother isn’t just raising your children—it’s letting go of the person you once were, and finding her again after the seasons shift.
As the years pass, the memories begin to blur. I find myself forgetting the details I thought I’d hold forever—the sound of their baby cries, the way their tiny fingers wrapped around mine, the exact words they said that once made me laugh until I cried. I forget where I placed things… and sometimes, where I placed parts of myself.
There are years where Mother’s Day feels heavier than others. For me, there are moments I wish I could go back—hold my child just a little longer, speak softer, or pause life long enough to truly be there. I did what I could with the tools I had at the time, but some days, guilt still creeps in.
Missing your child—whether through distance, death, disagreement, or time—is a grief that doesn’t show on the outside. But it’s real. And I see you, because I carry it too.
It’s not just age. It’s the weight of everything we carry. The unspoken grief. The mental load. The worry. The exhaustion. The years we gave, sometimes without even realizing how much of ourselves we were handing over piece by piece.
And yet—I wouldn’t trade it. Not for anything.
But moving on is something we don’t talk about enough. Moving on from the roles we outgrow. From guilt. From old wounds. From the version of motherhood we imagined to the one we actually lived. It takes courage to say: I did my best with what I knew. I made mistakes. I lost time. But I loved with everything I had.
If you’re reading this and carrying sadness over what you didn’t do, what you forgot, or what didn’t go the way you planned—this is your permission to breathe. To grieve what’s gone, but not to dwell in it. To remember that you’re still becoming. That moving on isn’t abandoning the past—it’s allowing the future to unfold with more grace.
Ways to Honor Motherhood This Week
If Mother’s Day feels heavy, here are small ways to honor your journey with tenderness:
- Write a letter to your younger mom self.
- Light a candle for a child or mother you miss.
- Take 10 minutes to rest without guilt.
- Frame a photo that reminds you of joy.
- Call someone who mothered you—biological or not.
Reflection Prompt:
What part of your motherhood journey have you been afraid to release—and what would it feel like to let it go with love, instead of guilt?
A Letter to Other Moms
You are not defined by your mistakes or what you’ve forgotten. You are made of the love you’ve given, the quiet strength you’ve shown, and the tears you’ve cried in private. Whether you’re raising little ones, watching them grow from afar, or grieving the ones you’ve lost—you are still a mother. And you are enough.
With love and gentleness,
Rose Alicia
Awakened Living 