I spent about two hours on my first Mother’s Day curled up on the floor of our walk-in closet, clutching the baby monitor as I waited for my eight-month-old son to wake up because I couldn’t stand the thought that someone else might hear him crying first. And for most of those two hours, I sobbed. Not just crying, but full-body, heaving sobs. Presumably, what set this off was the fact that my brother came over to help my husband cook dinner before I had cleaned the kitchen. It was the first family celebration I had hosted in our new home, and I was determined for it to be perfect. An untidy kitchen is not perfection. It took several weeks of getting over the incident and a great deal of perspective to realize that my meltdown that day had nothing to do with kitchens or family celebrations. It had everything to do with my stepson.

The position of 'motherhood' is the oldest occupation in the history of mankind. It is the "mother" of occupations, if you will. Mothers have been given the job of carrying, delivering and nurturing the next life. In most cases, it is the mother that is responsible for protection, nourishment and guidance.

Mother's Day is supposed to be a beautiful day to celebrate all the mother's out there. It's a time of reflection on the opportunities of raising children. Unfortunately, there are many out there that do not share this day as a happy and beautiful day. It's not a time of sending flowers, cards, dressing up, and fancy dinners. Instead it brings painful reminders of something that once was but now is lost.