Show Some Empathy On Mother's Day

On Mother’s Day 2013, I was sitting at an outdoor cafe in Uptown Minneapolis with my ex-wife, and even though we honestly never really “tried that hard” to be parents ultimately, she seemed kinda sad at the time. Looking back with 11 years of clarity and heartbreak and other things, it’s kinda sorta weird, because almost none of her friends had kids at that point. (We were around 31 to 32, I think.) Anyway, I said something to her like: “By the next one, you’ll be a mom.” She wasn’t, and we got divorced in 2017. Never quite made her a mom, or the one I’m with now. Maybe someday.

My first friend — I’m old as shit by now — had a kid probably 17 years ago. Weird to consider that, as said kid is probably graduating high school soon. (I don’t actively talk to that friend these days; a lot of stuff happens in 17 years.) So, I’ve been around for almost two decades of Mother’s Days, which are cool days, but again — like any holiday — shouldn’t we celebrate moms all of the days? It’s a nice touch, though. I ain’t got nothing wrong with Mother’s Day, per se. It has backslid a little bit into another Instagram Mom Super Bowl, but only for a select few.

Alright, so as I’ve navigated two long-term relationships and now infertility, I’ve seen a lot of the fawning social media post, the overdone mom worship, and just the sheer lack of empathy for where people are at in the process. For every single mom-of-six with blond hair and a toned ass and a perfect IG life, you have these types of women:

• Their mom just died.
• They just had a miscarriage.
• They are infertile or “secondary infertile.”
• They never had a good relationship with their mom.
• They wanted to be a specific kind of mom, and cannot be that kind of mom.

Much like fertility announcements, which can be a fucking sledgehammer devoid of empathy, a lot of people treat Mother’s Day the same way. Hold on one second and I’ll tell you a good story about fertility announcements, but first let me finish this thought on certain “days.” Just like I might get triggered on Father’s Day, or certain people might get triggered on Indigenous Peoples Day, or whatever … some “days” really get under people’s skin. Just be aware of that. You don’t need to limit your own joy, but be aware of it.

OK, as for fertility announcements. I wrote this once.

So man, and I mean goddamn man, I used to be in this small group at church. I’m still in it, but it’s a crew of different people now. Anyway, at this point in probably spring 2021, everyone in this group had a kid or a kid in their belly except me and my wife and one other couple. I thought we had a tacit understanding that like, if it went down for one of us, we would go talk to the other couple. Nope. Got that one wrong. I found out about their pregnancy when she posted two baby boots on a hiking trail via Instagram. BAM! And this was three years ago, and honestly I don’t think about it at all or care anymore, but at the time I was fucking torched about it — and our relationship slid backwards from there.

That moment could have been saved with a bit of empathy from them, and less triggered bullshit from me. So can Mother’s Day. That’s my main argument here.