Mother’s Day is supposed to be a celebration. A joyful, flower-filled, breakfast-in-bed occasion where mums are showered with love. And for many, it is. But there’s a quieter, less Instagrammable side to the day that doesn’t get talked about enough.
When speaking with my friends for ideas on what gifts they had their eye on for Mother’s Day, I quickly realised that this day can be filled with complex emotions. I am lucky to still have my amazing mum (and my nans, and two lovely mum-in-laws), and I have a close relationship with all of them. But for some of my mum friends, Mother’s Day brings grief, pressure, and even resentment. Behind the pretty cards and bottomless brunch menus are complicated emotions that don’t quite fit the narrative of a perfect day of celebration. Here are the stories of three mums, who shared why Mother’s Day isn’t a day they look forward to (names have been changed to protect privacy).
Sarah: I became a mother without mine
For Sarah, Mother’s Day can be a sad, even bittersweet event, and a reminder of what’s missing. She lost her mum to a fatal car accident, when Sarah was only 16. “At that age, you’re just beginning to understand your mum as a person,” she says. “We still butt heads a lot, of course – I was a stubborn teenager. But I was at that stage where we were becoming friends, rather than just mum and daughter. And then suddenly, she was gone.”
Now a mother of two herself, Sarah finds the day emotionally fragile. “I want to be like you and our friends, and take time out to enjoy being celebrated. I do love the handmade cards and cuddles from the kids. But there’s always this undercurrent of grief.” She wonders what kind of nan her mum would have been. What advice she would have offered during those exhausting newborn days. Whether she’d be proud of the mother Sarah has become.
“Mother’s Day feels like a split screen,” she explains. “On one side, I’m being loved on by my hubby and kids. On the other, I’m still that teenager who lost her mum, and the day brings back so many memories, both good and bad. It’s hard to manage all of it.”
Instead of a loud day of celebration and big gestures, Sarah likes to keep Mother’s Day low-key. She usually stays home, and goes through old photos and videos on her phone with her daughters. “I want to keep her memory alive, and for my girls to know that they have a Nan who would have loved them, as much as I still love her.”
“I don’t hate Mother’s Day. But I wish I could enjoy it more.”
Kate: It’s not my day – it’s my mother-in-law’s
Kate is a mum of a four-year-old, an American living in Singapore with her Singaporean husband. For Kate, Mother’s Day can feel more like an obligation than a celebration. “In theory, it’s my day too,” she laughs. “But in reality, I’m the one organising everything, and nothing is what I would choose for myself.” Every year, she books a local restaurant, coordinates the schedules of her extended family, and makes sure her mother-in-law feels appreciated, all while managing her young son and navigating cultural differences and family expectations.
“In Singaporean culture, respecting elders is a big deal, more than in America,” she explains. “I’m not that fussy, and my mum’s usually not in the country, so the focus naturally shifts to my husband’s mum.” While she genuinely cares for her mother-in-law, the day often leaves her feeling invisible. “I’m sitting there, making sure everyone’s okay, making conversation. No one ever really asks what I would like to do on Mother’s Day.”
What makes it harder is that her own parents live overseas. “I’d love to spend the day with my mum, or even just do something small with our own little family,” she says. “But instead, I’m usually surrounded by my husband’s family, doing things I don’t really want to do.” By the end of the day, she feels exhausted. “Mother’s Day just highlights the imbalance,” she says quietly. “I’m a mum, but it feels like I’m an afterthought on that day, compared to my husband’s mum. I hope that my son will help to shift this as he gets older, and we can do more things together just the three of us.”
Mel: Please stop spending money I don’t want you to spend
Then there’s Melissa, who has a very different gripe. “Singapore is so expensive. I don’t need diamonds. I don’t need a five-course brunch. I need savings, and a nap,” she says. Every year, her husband goes all out. Flower deliveries, expensive pressies, and elaborate lunch reservations. “It’s sweet, but he’s also completely missing the point.”
What Mel really wants is simple. A day off.
“No planning, no decisions, no having to be ‘on’,” she explains. But somehow, these big gestures create more stress. “There’s the crowded restaurant with overtired kids, the pressure to look presentable, when I’d rather spend the day in my pjs with a cuppa. Don’t even get me started on the logistics of getting everyone out the door on time – it’s so stressful. And then there’s the crazy cost,” she adds. “It feels wasteful. I’d rather we save that money or spend it on something that means more, like a family holiday or trip home.”
She’s tried to communicate this to her husband, but ends up feeling ungrateful. “There’s this idea of what Mother’s Day should look like,” she says. “And it doesn’t always match what mums actually want.” Her ideal Mother’s Day? “Sleep in. Quiet coffee. Maybe a walk around the Botanic Gardens and a game of mahjong with my ladies. That’s it. That’s the dream.”
Maybe it’s time to rethink how we celebrate Mother’s Day
These stories aren’t about a lack of gratitude. I know my friends all love their families and we all appreciate the effort and the cards. It was sobering for me to take a moment to think about the fact that Mother’s Day, like motherhood, and the relationships around it, are complex. Mother’s Day, in its glossy, commercialised form, often flattens those complexities into a one-size-fits-all celebration. But real life doesn’t work that way. For some of my friends, it’s a day of remembrance. For others, it’s a day of obligation. And for many, it’s simply not the kind of break they actually need.
If there’s one thing my friends and I agree on, it’s that the best way to honour us as mothers is to actually listen to us. And sometimes, what we’re saying is ‘this isn’t what I want at all.’ Got an opinion? DM us.
