Steph Penny
There is something about motherhood being described as ‘the greatest gift’ that makes my brain scream. Which makes Mother’s Days one of the worst days on my calendar.
It can be particularly bad at church. As a result, I normally give Mother’s Days (and Father’s Days too, there’s no discrimination here) a wide berth. In my experience of such events, people end up raving about how great parenthood is. Which may well be true. But it creates a sense of outsiderness for those of us not in the club.
A few years ago, I attended church on Mother’s Day. I know, it was a roll of the dice. But I had been assured beforehand that there would be no glorifying of motherhood, and that the mothers who had been chosen to speak would share about all types of mothering, not necessarily the biological kind.
So I braced myself and agreed to go. It was an educated risk. A gamble.
When will I learn my lesson? The gamble did not pay off.
They ended up raving about motherhood being ‘the greatest gift.’ I mean, why? I spent the rest of the day depressed and crying, cuddling my furbaby. That sort of experience can leave childless people wearing a sense of heaviness, and it can take a while to shake it off.
Thing is, I know they meant well. I know they were expressing gratitude for the opportunity to be mothers. I would be grateful too. But that’s the point, isn’t it? I never had that opportunity. I missed out on the ‘greatest gift.’ Do I therefore infer that I am relegated to lesser or leftover gifts? Or perhaps none at all? This cannot be true; my life is brimming with blessings, childlessness not withstanding.
I’m going to get on my hobby horse for a second. It would be helpful if we could perhaps describe motherhood as a ‘great’ or ‘wonderful’ gift, instead of ‘greatest;’ this would be just as true without making childless people feel like losers. (Or maybe it’s just me.) I wish churches would use language more thoughtfully on Mother’s and Father’s Days, rather than using terms that leave some in a funk of depression. Churches, of all places, should be safe for and inclusive of everyone.
Okay, here endeth the lesson. I’ll dismount from my hobby horse now.
Personally, given the pain and heartache I’ve endured in the past, I plan to skip these days in the future. I’ll stay home and celebrate being a fur mummy instead. Lesson learned.
