A Different Bouquet
Why Mother’s Day is hard for me
In the last few years Mother’s Day has unexpectedly become hard for me. The other days of the year, I passively orbit motherhood as the content sun of our social solar system. Usually, I can absently absorb school drop off outfit ideas or hospital bag birthing packing lists. I mine this content for what I can apply to my own life and leave the rest for those who it truly benefits. Normally, I’m happy the internet has democratized inspiration. Social media has been key in making the highly niche widely accessible. But I also know that the majority of paid influencers are women and that “momfluencing” is part of a multi-billion dollar industry targeting a demographic of millennial moms with $2 trillion to spend. On Mother’s Day, my normal acceptance of motherhood as a central content tenet of my feed takes the ultimate test. Everything just hits too close. Too deep. On this day, the hardship comes in full force — tinged with complicated greys.
I feel this way because I am strongly formed by my relationship with my own mother and by my choice to be child-free. I move along the timeline of my life, a bead on a thread. My past can’t change. But neither can my future. Each year, I scroll past gift guides catered to moms and feel a twinge in my heart. To me, each carefully curated gift is a reminder of the things I don’t have.
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