Who is Mother’s Day really for?
What I know for sure is that it’s not for the mothers with small children who are actively in the trenches of motherhood … but it should be.
Before I had kids, I loved Mother’s Day. It was a chance to focus on my mom, spoil her, and make her the centre of attention — when she was always working so hard to make sure my siblings and I were happy, whole, and cared for.
But, as irony would have it, my relationship with Mother’s Day changed dramatically when I became a mom.
To be clear, my kids are now pretty much grown — they are in their late teens to early twenties — but I think this makes me even more qualified to talk about how Mother’s Day often isn’t really for the mothers who need it most, who need a break. The ones doing the active, daily, exhausting work of motherhood. The ones in it.
Postpartum depression, mental load, and early motherhood
When I became a mom nearly 23 years ago, I was in a haze for at least the first eight months of my son’s life, struggling with postpartum depression, sleep deprivation, and everything feeling ten times harder than I expected.
Being born in June, my son was nearly a year old before I even experienced my first Mother’s Day. To be honest, I don’t remember it. So much of that time is a blur for me.
When my daughter came along two-and-a-half years later, she was just three months old when my husband suggested we host a big family brunch with his side of the family to celebrate Mother’s Day.
I went along with it, because he loved having family celebrations, and even though I was now a mother of two babies, I still believed Mother’s Day should be about other mothers. I didn’t yet consider that I might be someone who deserved to be centred, or that I could ask for what I actually needed and wanted.
It wasn’t until a few years of hosting these exhausting Mother’s Day brunches that I finally spoke up and told my husband I didn’t want to do it anymore. It was too overwhelming. Too much work. And honestly, there was nothing about it that felt like it was for me.
What I wanted, when my kids were little, was simple: some time with them, and then some time alone where I could just be — no demands, no noise, just quiet to reset.
The invisible labour of motherhood
As I became more confident in myself and a more seasoned mother, I started to notice how little of Mother’s Day actually feels designed for mothers with young children — the ones carrying the mental load, doing the emotional labour, and managing the constant demands of family life.
And once I saw that, I became very cynical about the whole thing. It didn’t feel like it was for the people it was designed to celebrate. So, I opted out.
Eventually, I stopped wanting to celebrate Mother's Day in the traditional way. Instead, I began choosing a different day where my husband could be with the kids and I could do something just for myself — as my own version of a “Mother’s Day gift.” That shift helped a lot.
And now, to this day, I tend to treat Mother’s Day as just another day, because it is still a lot of work — and I choose another time to honour myself as a mother in a way that actually feels good to me.
I’ve also made a quiet promise to myself: If I’m lucky enough to become a grandmother one day, I will make Mother’s Day about the mothers with young children. The ones who are up all night, carrying the mental load, working inside and outside the home, and managing everything for everyone all the time.
If Mother’s Day feels hard, you are not alone
So, if you are a mother to young kids and Mother’s Day doesn’t feel like it’s really for you or doesn’t look like what you actually need … please know you are not alone.
I see you. I’ve been there.