I didn’t know last year that there was an International Bereaved Mother’s Day celebrated the Sunday BEFORE the U.S. Mother’s Day.
I hope that my bereaved mother friends took advantage of that day to think about and honor their missing child(ren).
But we still have to make it through tomorrow. And that can be very challenging.
I wrote this last year: Mother’s Day as a Bereaved Mother
International Bereaved Mother’s Day is observed the Sunday before Mother’s Day in the United States. This year it’s Sunday, [May 4, 2025].
I didn’t even know such a day existed until I was a mom that needed it.
For those of us who have children in heaven, setting aside a day to acknowledge that unique mother/child relationship is helpful.
Traditional Mother’s Day is meant to be a time of celebration. A day when children send cards or flowers or give gifts to honor their mom and let her know that years spent pouring into their lives are appreciated.
Lots of church pews and restaurant tables are filled with family as children come home to be with mom.
But Dominic can’t come home.
That makes Mother’s Day complicated for me.
It means that while I am thrilled to spend it with the children who can make it home, there is always a tinge of sadness to the celebration. And I hate that. Because they deserve a whole-hearted mama.
So I’m thankful this other day exists. Thankful for a day when I can think about and speak about and embrace the child that won’t be with me next weekend.
Because Dominic is STILL my son. He is still very much a part of my heart. And I need to be able to speak that aloud for others to hear.
Some mamas will be drawing or painting hearts on their hands and writing their missing child’s name inside as a beautiful outward testimony to an inward reality. Every day we carry our missing child in our hearts.
So if you know a bereaved mama, give her a hug Sunday.
Make time and give space for her to share.
And then listen, love and lift her up.
In recent years I’ve noticed more awareness of how hard it can be for women who struggle with infertility to walk into church on Mother’s Day and I am glad.
Pews filled with other women’s children and bulletin announcements, public recognition of “oldest mother”, “youngest mother”, “mother with the most children” along with the obligatory sermon based on Proverbs 31 conspire in a litany of accusation against the barren womb.
Some of these women choose to stay home. Others may be silently lifting a prayer for grace or may, like Hannah, be begging God for a child.
As a bereaved mother, this is a complicated holiday for me too.
I am so, so thankful for all my children.
I received each as a gift from God and treasure them in my heart.
Being a mother has been and continues to be the most demanding and most rewarding thing I have ever done or ever hope to do.
I used to look forward to Mother’s Day.
Not so much because it celebrated me as a mom, but because it was a moment to pause, reflect and remember how wonderful it is to be surrounded by my children.
But there’s no train from here to Heaven, no telephone line that can bridge the gap between where I am and where Dominic is.
I will never again be able to gather my children around our earthly table, see each of their faces, hug their necks.
So bear with me.
And if you think of me and other mothers who have buried children, pray for me and for them.
Pray that we finish strong, that we persevere and that we continue to cling to the One Who can carry us through the rest of our days with hope and courage.
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing [through the experience of your faith] that by the power of the Holy Spirit you will abound in hope and overflow with confidence in His promises.
Romans 15:13 AMP
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