I really don't like the way Mother's Day has been altered, morphing from a joyous celebration of and respect for our own mothers, to honoring all women who happen to be mothers, to making the day downright depressing by including everyone under the sun and telling many sad stories in the process. At every step the day seems to have become less meaningful and more selfish.
But in this world there are still plenty of sorrows associated with motherhood, and that suffering needs to be remembered. This was brought home again to me when I read this in The Wild Robot, by Peter Brown.
Do you know what the most terrible sound in the world is? It's the howl of a mother bear as she watches her cub tumble off a cliff.
This post is for every mother who has lost a child: at any age; at any stage of life; suddenly or through prolonged suffering; by accident, injury, illness, stillbirth, miscarriage, or abortion; and also for those who have lost even the hope and dream of children.
Even more so, this post is for mothers (and fathers) who have heard the howls of their own children who have suffered these losses.
Sunday is for celebrating what we have. Today we can pause to think about what we—or more importantly, others—have not.
Thinking of all the mothers I know in the Gambia who have lost multiple children.
