Our Land: Mother’s Day is Weird

This week’s Our Land Series post was written by somebody I’ve never met, but would like to. Why? Because she’s IRL (in real life) friends with my awesome friend Kenya Johnson, author of The Christopher Chronicles, and Live, Laugh, Blog (formerly known as Here’s the Thing which is sure to have a new name – same URL  – by, um, I’d guess September).

Kenya is a known Our Land contributor, and authored the extremely popular posts What Comes Around Goes Around and Words of Encouragement. Kenya is authentic, funny, unique, and just cool. She even knows how to hula hoop. For real.

Here’s her friend’s post:

Our Land: Mother’s Day is Weird

By Elizabeth Darling

Mother’s Day is weird.  Maybe it’s just me… or maybe it’s weird for a lot of other women who don’t have kids.  Some of us are within childbearing years.  Others of us are well beyond childbearing years.  The reasons that we are childless vary, but the fact remains… we are not mothers.

Throughout much of the year, that seems okay.  Childless women often have the freedom to sleep late, pursue degrees, travel, commit to our work, and volunteer.  We may be busy, but it’s a busy that we choose for ourselves.  It’s really not so bad, until Mother’s Day rolls around and then things get weird.

My first weird Mother’s Day occurred when I was in my mid-twenties, newly married, working full-time, and in graduate school.  I had enough going on; having a baby wasn’t on my mind.  I went to church fully prepared to wish every mother I encountered a heartfelt, “HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!”

An usher greeted me with a carnation and a Mother’s Day wish.  I replied, “Oh!  I’m not a mother.”  The unnecessarily optimistic usher said, “You are not a mother YET!”  I reluctantly accepted the “you-are-not-a-mother-YET” carnation from him and found my seat.  It was a strange exchange, and it made me feel bad.  I wasn’t ready for children.  Did that somehow make me a bad woman?

A few years later, in my late-twenties, I attended a different church on Mother’s Day.  The pastor’s wife greeted each woman as she entered the church that morning.  As I approached her, I could see that she was a bit emotional.  Uh oh.  I watched as she presented the mother in front of me with a gift.  When it was my turn, I cheerily said, “No, thanks.  I don’t have children.”  She grabbed me and held me a little too tight and a little too long.  Through her tears, she whispered to me, “You are mother to someone.”  I thought I’m pretty sure that I’m not.

When she released me, she pressed the “you-are-a-mother-to-someone” bookmark in my hand and patted my back as I cautiously walked away from her craziness.  I spent the rest of the day feeling like some weird sort of… being. I was a childless woman on Mother’s Day, who apparently needed pity whether I wanted it or not.

Last year, in my early 30’s, I thought I was better prepared for another childless Mother’s Day.  We had moved again and I was attending another new church. I confidently approached the usher, who pressed an “I’m-A-Mother” bookmark, teapot, and rose in my hand. I had learned that rejecting the church’s Mother’s Day gifts never goes well, so I just went with it saying, “Wow!  How beautiful!  Thank you!”  I was taken aback when the usher sympathetically said, “I know that you don’t have children.  Please know that it will happen in God’s time.  I’m praying for you.”  I nearly lost it. I had never talked to this guy or anyone at this church about needing or wanting prayer for children!  No matter how prepared I thought I was, it turns out the only thing you can do to properly prepare for Mother’s Day is to become a mother.

After last year, I vowed that I would never go to church on Mother’s Day again.  It was just too weird – not because people are trying to be insensitive.  It’s weird because people are trying too hard to be sympathetic!  Please – enough with the tears, long hugs, and fertility pep talks.  I don’t have kids. Can we leave it at that?  Don’t assume, don’t judge, and don’t make ridiculously personal comments.

I have never birthed or raised a child.  By definition, I am not a mother.  To recognize me as such demeans the day for all the wonderful women who are mothers.  Unearned recognition on Mother’s Day makes me feel that being childless is so shameful it should be covered up with sympathy and presents.  It sends the message that it’s not okay to be a childless woman (regardless of the circumstances that leave me childless), and that you feel sorry for me because I am – especially on Mother’s Day.

There may be childless women who would like to be recognized on Mother’s Day.  They might even want you to know that they have struggled with infertility, or have lost a baby through miscarriage or other unfortunate circumstances.  Each woman is different.  If I want you to know about my procreation desires and journey, I will tell you.  Until then, please keep your Mother’s Day prizes, condolences and comments to yourself.

By definition, I am not a mother – YET! (I couldn’t resist) Please leave me out on Mother’s Day. Really, I’m okay with it. Otherwise, Mother’s Day is just plain weird.

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Thank you to Kenya’s friend for the reminder that this Mother’s Day, and on all of the days, to not judge, assume, or push our own desires or opinions onto others. Here’s a bit more about Kenya:

Kenya G. Johnson is a freelance writer, editor, blogger of Live, Laugh, Blog... and the author of The Christopher Chronicles. It’s a delightful, warm and hilarious compilation of adorable phrases and thoughts from her son Christopher.

She’s currently working on three writing projects. Kenya resides in Jacksonville, North Carolina, with her husband and her son.