Navigating painful holidays with faith and compassion

Let’s be honest: Mother’s Day can be one of the hardest days of the year when you’ve lost a child. While others are picking out cards, making brunch reservations, and posting family selfies, your heart might be sitting quietly with an ache that no one else can see.

The truth is, when a child dies—no matter their age—Mother’s Day changes forever. You may dread the approach of it, feel numb during it, and ache long after it passes. And that’s okay.

This post is a gentle guide for the grieving mom—the mom who’s missing a child she can’t hold. Whether your child passed away in infancy, childhood, or adulthood, your loss is real. Your pain is valid. And your motherhood still matters.

This space is for you.


You’re Not Failing for Feeling Broken

Grief is not something you can schedule or control—especially on days like this. You might wake up with tears. Or you might feel nothing at all and wonder if something’s wrong with you. Let me tell you: nothing is wrong with you.

You are grieving.
You are remembering.
You are doing the best you can.

Mother’s Day can feel like a spotlight on everything you’ve lost. The world may expect joy and gratitude, but you’re carrying a silent sorrow that doesn’t take the day off.

There is no timeline for healing, and no “right” way to feel today.


Your Child Still Matters, and Always Will

Whether your child was here for minutes or decades, they mattered. They still matter. Their life was a gift. Their memory is a treasure.

So, say their name.
Tell a story.
Look at old pictures.
Light a candle.
Cry if you need to.
Laugh if you can.
Remember with love, even when it hurts.

Your grief is a sign of deep, enduring love. It may change over time, but it never disappears—because neither does your love for your child.

And no matter what anyone else says or thinks: you are still their mom.


God Sees You in the Shadows

It might feel like the world has forgotten your pain, especially on a holiday that often overlooks grieving mothers. But God hasn’t.

You are not invisible to Him. Not your tears. Not your questions. Not your brokenness.

Psalm 56:8 tells us that God collects our tears in a bottle. That means every moment of pain, every tear shed in the quiet hours, every sigh that no one else hears—it all matters to Him.

He is not looking for polished prayers or spiritual perfection today. He just wants you—even if all you can offer is a whispered, “Help me.”


Don’t Forget the Children Still With You

For many bereaved moms, the pain of Mother’s Day is tangled with the presence of other children. You may be missing one child deeply while trying to show up for your others. It can feel like an emotional tug-of-war between grief and gratitude.

And that’s okay.

You are allowed to hold space for both. Loving and missing the child who is gone doesn’t take away from the love you have for your living children. And being present for them doesn’t mean you’ve stopped grieving the one who is no longer here.

Your children who remain—young or grown—may also be grieving in their own way. They may notice your sadness. They may have questions. Let them see that sorrow and love can share the same space. Let them see your humanity and your strength. Let them know it’s okay to talk about the sibling they miss.

You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be real. And you’re doing that beautifully.


Make a Gentle Plan for the Day

You don’t have to pretend. You don’t have to follow tradition. And you don’t owe anyone an explanation.

Mother’s Day might feel easier with a plan—one that centers your emotional well-being. Ask yourself:

  • What feels nourishing today? Quiet time? Nature? Prayer? Music?

  • Who are the safe people I can be around—or call or text if I need support?

  • Are there traditions I want to keep? Are there new ones I want to start?

  • What boundaries can I set to protect my heart?

Maybe you stay off social media. Maybe you visit a gravesite or look through old baby clothes. Maybe you just sleep in and let the day pass quietly.

Whatever you choose, give yourself full permission to put your heart first.


You Are Still a Mother

One of the cruelest things about grief is how invisible it can feel. You might walk through stores filled with balloons and bouquets and feel like the world has forgotten your motherhood.

But your motherhood is not erased by loss. In fact, it’s deepened by it.

You carried a life. You loved, nurtured, taught, prayed, sacrificed. And even in your grief, you are still doing that. You carry your child in your memories, in your love, in the way you show up each day even when it’s hard.

If the world forgets to honor you, let me say it clearly:
You are a mother.
You are worthy of being honored.
You are doing holy, heartbreaking, beautiful work.


If You Feel Like Skipping the Day—That’s Okay

Sometimes, the best way to survive Mother’s Day is to opt out.

You don’t have to go to church if it feels too painful. You don’t have to sit through brunch. You don’t have to put on a smile if you’re falling apart inside.

God doesn’t require a performance from you. He knows your story, your sorrow, and your limits.

If this year you need to take the day off—to cry, to rest, to escape—it doesn’t make you weak. It makes you wise.

🧡 Closing Prayer:

Dear Lord,

Today is heavy. My heart carries both love and sorrow, gratitude and grief. You know the child I’m missing, the ache that settles deeper on this day meant for joy. You know the tears I hide and the questions I can’t answer.

But You also know my child. You know their name, their story, their soul. And I thank You that they are never lost to You.

Wrap me in Your comfort, God. Let me feel Your nearness in the quiet moments. Hold the broken pieces of my heart with gentleness. And when I struggle to lift my head, help me to lean into Your strength.

Help me honor the child I’ve lost with love, not guilt.
Help me see the children I still have with eyes of grace, not pressure.
Help me carry my motherhood with honesty and faith—even when it’s messy.

Thank You for calling me a mother still.
Thank You for seeing my pain and loving me in it.
Thank You that even in the sorrow, there is hope.

Be my peace today, Lord. And hold every grieving mother close.

Amen.