Images by Adam Nyholt

Mother’s Day has never been an easy day for me, though 13 years after my mother’s passing, cards and commercials don’t affect me quite like they used to. The day typically comes and goes with a lot of reflection and minimal tears. I’m able to celebrate the ladies in my life who are like mothers, and I value the time I get to spend with them. But that doesn’t take away from the cold, hard fact that my mom isn’t here. It still stings to type that, and unfortunately, that’s not only true on Mother’s Day. Anyone who’s lost her mom can attest to that. I’m never quite sure how to approach this day: is it a happy day? A memorial-like day? It’s confusing.

I’m also sad in a new way I never was before. I don’t get to share motherhood with her. I don’t get to have an adult relationship, one in which we’re friends and not just mother and daughter. I’m missing out on my daughter’s maternal grandmother sharing secrets and snack time with her. No shopping trips to pick out outfits for her (and my mom LOVED to shop). I mourn the loss of the experiences I never had, and the memories we’ll never get to make together.

On the other hand, being a mom myself, I get to revel in the fact that I brought into this world a wild, curly-haired little character, who speaks (mostly Spanish) in the sweetest voice, smiles bigger than anyone I’ve ever met, and makes me laugh every day. I celebrate the fact that she’s mine and it’s my job to be strong and not sad on a day like today, when she’ll be reflecting on the kind of mom she has and her place in the world because of me.

I think about all the things she hasn’t done yet, all the pain she doesn’t know: she’s never hit her funny bone. She’s never gotten a paper cut. She doesn’t know there’s a greater pleasure than a high chair full of blueberries. She finds the most joy and pride in getting “uppie” on a stool and standing there so we see her and she knows we know she did it by herself. She doesn’t know yet that people think there are things she can’t (and shouldn’t) do, or that there are very painful things in life. To protect that innocence and sweetness, to teach her to be proud of her achievements AND her disappointments, not to let anyone stomp on her independent and adventuring spirit… those are the tasks I’m charged with. And as sad as it is not to have my mother here to share the ride with me, I’m energized and resolved by these tasks.

I had a really special, amazing mother for 18 years, and she helped me become a strong, confident person.  So I celebrate myself, as the mom that I am, and I celebrate the women in my life who have stepped in, not to fill my mom’s shoes, but to make the emptiness of her shoes more bearable. Thanks to all of them, to my incredible husband, and my precious girl, it’s going to be a happy day.