Holding all forms of motherhood - Monni shares some of her story on mothering
Mother’s Day
Holding All Forms of Motherhood
There is a quiet tension that has been growing in the world.
A carefulness.
A softening of language.
A pulling back from saying too much, in case we say the wrong thing.
We are living in a time where there is a deep desire not to offend, not to exclude, not to cause harm. At its heart, that comes from something good. From awareness. From care. From a willingness to see beyond only our own experience.
But somewhere along the way, that care can tip into something else.
Silence.
Avoidance.
An overcorrection that removes not only what is difficult, but also what is meaningful.
And in doing so, we risk losing something important.
Because not everything that holds complexity needs to be taken away. Some things simply need to be held more honestly.
Mother’s Day is one of those things.
As some of you know, three years ago, our family lost our baby sister.
There are moments in life that quietly divide everything into before and after. This was one of them. Alongside my own grief, witnessing my mum’s grief has been one of the most painful things we have ever endured together.
It reshaped something deep within me.
A tenderness.
A knowing.
A deeper awareness of love and loss existing side by side.
As Mother’s Day approaches, I find myself reflecting not only on my own experience, but on the many layered experiences of others.
To all those who have lost their mothers
To all mothers who have lost a child
We are thinking of you.
I grew up in a big family. My mum and dad, two older half sisters, an older half brother, my older brother, and three younger sisters. A house full of people, noise, movement, and life.
From a young age, I imagined something similar for myself. A big, bustling home. Five children of my own, perhaps adopting more. A life that felt expansive, messy, and overflowing with love.
However the path into motherhood has not been straightforward.
In my twenties, I was not ready to be a mother. I was still finding my footing, making sense of my childhood, my experiences, and who I was becoming.
It was not until my thirties that something shifted.
A quiet readiness.
A sense of grounding.
A feeling that I could hold space not only for myself, but for another life.
Over the past three and a half years, that desire has been met with questions rather than answers.
Tests, blood work, examinations.
Ultrasounds, MRIs, surgery.
A long and often uncertain process of trying to understand why becoming a mother has not yet happened.
As this Mother’s Day approaches, I find myself at the beginning of something new.
My first appointment to begin IVF.
This moment holds many layers.
It is hope.
It is uncertainty.
It is courage.
It is surrender.
And it connects me, in a quiet and profound way, to so many other women.
To those who have longed for children
To those who have walked the path of IVF, in all its forms
To those for whom it has worked, and those for whom it has not
To those still waiting, still hoping, still finding their way
You are seen.
Motherhood, I have come to understand, is not one singular experience.
It is not defined only by having children.
The word mother itself carries a deeper meaning. Its roots trace back to ancient language, where it has long spoken to origin, to source, to the one who nurtures and sustains life.
To mother is to care.
To hold.
To guide.
To protect.
To create safety and continuity.
It is a role, yes.
But it is also a quality.
A way of being.
And it has never belonged to only one kind of person.
In our own ways, many of us step into this role.
Through raising children.
Through supporting others.
Through holding space for friends.
Through mentoring younger women.
Through caring for animals, for land, for the world around us.
There is a quiet, inherent nature to this.
Something deeply human.
Something deeply feminine.
There are those who have grown up without a mother who would describe their father as their mother.
There are people who have stepped in where they were needed, offering care, steadiness, and guidance.
Mothering lives in many places.
It is not defined only by biology.
It is defined by care.
And still, this day is not easy for everyone.
For some, today carries grief.
For those who have lost their mothers.
For those who have lost a child.
For those who long to be mothers.
For those navigating absence, distance, or complicated relationships.
This is real.
And it deserves to be acknowledged.
But acknowledging pain does not require the removal of meaning.
Because if we begin to remove every moment that might be difficult for someone, we are left with very little that is real.
Life is not one note.
It is layered.
It is complex.
It holds joy and grief at the same time.
And the work is not to erase one in favour of the other.
It is to make space for both.
And to the young women who have lost their mothers
There is no replacing that loss.
Over time, there may be people who come into your life who offer guidance, care, and a sense of steadiness.
Not to fill the space that has been left, but to soften it.
To round its edges.
To remind you that you are still held in ways that may look different, but are no less meaningful.
There is something in the world at the moment that can feel like we are going too far in trying not to offend.
Where instead of speaking to the fullness of an experience, we step away from it entirely.
Where we avoid naming things, celebrating things, acknowledging things, just in case it lands the wrong way.
But where is the honesty in that?
Where is the healing?
Because healing does not come from pretending something does not exist.
It comes from being able to sit with what is true.
To say
This is beautiful
And this is hard
And both are allowed to be here
The world can be heavy.
There is loss.
There is injustice.
There is so much that is hard to hold.
But there is also beauty.
Connection.
Care.
The quiet, everyday acts of love that hold everything together.
And those things deserve to be acknowledged.
They deserve to be named.
They deserve to be celebrated.
Not less.
More.
Today, we hold space for all of it.
For love
For grief
For longing
For hope
For what has been
For what may still be
Wherever you find yourself this Mother’s Day, know that your experience is valid.
There is no right way to walk this path.
We are, in our own ways, walking it together.
~ Monni
Comments
Add a comment