The Many Sides of Mother’s Day

May is interesting.

The trekkies come out on May 4th.

Cinco de Mayo celebrations follow shortly after.

Then comes what is arguably one of the most widely celebrated holidays of the month: Mother’s Day.

At the same time, May is also Mental Health Awareness Month.

On the surface, those things may seem unrelated.

But I actually think there’s a strong connection between Mother’s Day and mental health, for mothers and for others.

For some people, Mother’s Day feels joyful and easy.

Their mother is still here.

The relationship is loving, healthy, and emotionally safe.

The day feels like celebration, gratitude, warmth, tradition, and connection.

But for others, the day is far more complicated.

Some people are grieving mothers who have passed away.

Some are navigating estrangement, abandonment, silence, or relationships that have always been painful.

Some are carrying wounds from childhood that do not disappear simply because a holiday arrives.

Some people desperately wanted children and could not have them.

Some have experienced miscarriages or pregnancy loss that few people know about.

Some are grieving children they buried far too soon.

And mothers themselves can experience the day in very different ways depending on their circumstances, support systems, mental health, relationships, finances, and life experiences.

Motherhood is often romanticized publicly, while the emotional labor attached to it remains largely invisible.

Many mothers are carrying the weight of:

Managing households.

Remembering everything.

Holding families together emotionally.

Working full time.

Caregiving.

Financial stress.

Co-parenting challenges.

Guilt.

Exhaustion.

Isolation.

Identity shifts.

The constant pressure to appear grateful, fulfilled, patient, nurturing, and emotionally available at all times.

Some women love motherhood deeply and still feel overwhelmed by it.

Some are also processing what it means to make, delay, lose, or carry pregnancies in a world where choice, access, safety, and support are not equally available.

Those feelings are not mutually exclusive.

And then there are the social expectations surrounding holidays like Mother’s Day.

We are often told the day should look a certain way:

Brunches.

Flowers.

Cards.

Perfect family photos.

Public tributes.

Matching outfits.

Smiles.

But holidays have a way of amplifying whatever is already present emotionally.

If someone feels loved, connected, and emotionally secure, holidays can magnify joy.

But if someone feels lonely, unseen, excluded, disappointed, exhausted, grieving, conflicted, or emotionally disconnected, holidays can magnify those feelings too.

That’s part of why these seasons can feel unexpectedly heavy for some people.

Social media can intensify it further.

You may scroll through hundreds of tributes while privately grieving the mother you lost.

Or mourning the relationship you wish you had.

Or wondering whether anyone sees the emotional weight you carry every single day as a mother yourself.

And many people hold multiple truths at once.

Love and grief.

Joy and resentment.

Gratitude and exhaustion.

Celebration and sadness.

Relief and guilt.

Pride and loneliness.

Human emotions are layered like that.

I think there’s value in making room for the full complexity of these experiences instead of forcing everyone into a single narrative about what Mother’s Day is “supposed” to feel like.

Not every person experiences motherhood the same way.

Not every daughter does either.

Not every family fits neatly inside a greeting card.

And honestly, acknowledging that reality may be one of the most compassionate things we can do for one another.

So if this season feels joyful for you, celebrate it fully.

And if it feels complicated, heavy, bittersweet, lonely, triggering, or emotionally exhausting, you are probably not nearly as alone as you think.

Grace matters.

Sensitivity matters.

Checking on people matters.

Especially during seasons when the world assumes everyone should feel happy.

With gratitude,

Dr. Melanie