Compassion in Bloom: A Recalibrated Look at Mother’s Day

This Sunday, many will celebrate Mother’s Day with flowers, brunches, handmade cards, and heartfelt gratitude.

And many others will quietly brace themselves for a day that holds more ache than applause.

This holiday, meant to honor and uplift, can also stir a thousand complicated emotions - often all at once.

Some will feel joy. Some will feel grief. Some will feel both.

This past week, I found myself in conversation with three very different individuals:

~ A mother on the edge of transition, as her children grow into independence and begin to leave the nest.

~ A woman facing her first Mother’s Day without her mom - a loss that reshapes the landscape of every “first” going forward.

~ And a man running a nonprofit that walks alongside women who find themselves in the space of unexpected motherhood—unplanned, unsure, overwhelmed.

Each story carries its own weight. Its own wonder.
And each one reminded me that Mother’s Day isn’t simple.

There are women aching to become mothers.
Mothers who have lost children.
Daughters who feel distant from their moms - emotionally, relationally, or physically.
Caregivers who “mother” in beautiful and unofficial ways.
And mothers who are in the thick of it - juggling, nurturing, becoming.

We need a wider lens.

We need room to celebrate and to grieve.

To honor the women who raised us and the ones who let us down.

To sit with the joy of motherhood and the exhaustion, longing, or loss it can bring.

This isn’t about fixing the tension.
It’s about leading through it with tenderness.

Motherhood, in All Its Forms, Deserves Recognition

Whether you:

Are a mother in the trenches
Long to be one
Lost one
Lost a child
Mother in ways that go unnoticed
Are navigating healing with your own mom

Or are still figuring out what the word mother means to you -

Please Know:

You matter.

You’re seen.

You’re not alone.

And your story belongs here.

This Week, I Invite You to Recalibrate

Pause long enough to notice what this season stirs in you.

Then ask:
“What does this moment really need from me?”

If joy is present - celebrate it fully.
If grief surfaces - let it rise without shame.
If your emotions feel mixed - hold space for the messiness.

Lead with compassion.
For yourself. For others.
For the unspoken battles people carry beneath the surface of their smiles.

We don’t always know the story behind someone’s silence - or behind their celebration.
So let’s soften our responses, widen our reach, and ground our leadership in empathy.

Let’s Practice Holding Space

~ For the woman who lost her child and wonders how to keep breathing through the day.

~ For the mom who’s doing her best but feels invisible in the daily grind.

~ For the one navigating infertility while the world around her blooms with baby announcements.

~ For the daughter missing her mother, or mourning a relationship that never quite felt safe.

~ For the new mom in uncharted territory, or the woman who mothered a friend when no one else could.

~ For the men walking alongside mothers, offering support with no need for spotlight.

Leadership isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it looks like:

Sitting in stillness with a friend’s sorrow.

Saying “I see you” to someone who feels overlooked.

Releasing the pressure to “fix” and choosing to simply be present.

Letting yourself feel your own emotions, without apology.

Creating space where others feel safe to show up honestly.

In Closing

Whether you celebrate, grieve, rest, remember, or simply be this week -
Do it with kindness.

If someone crosses your path and seems out of step, consider:

They may be carrying more than you can see.

Honor the stories - spoken and unspoken.

Lead with love.

And give yourself permission to recalibrate in the way your soul needs most.

Because leadership begins with awareness.

And awareness begins with presence.

You don’t need to have the right words.

You just need to make space—for others, and for yourself.