"...to the mother within all of us - let her free to love, nurture, and heal so that we may all be better at raising each other"

-Cleo Wade

I am a childless mother. My children died in my womb, and as the years tick by, I will never say "Stop growing! You're growing up too fast!" because, far too early, they did stop growing, and they will never grow up.

Society has made one thing clear: mother's day is not for me. It is a day that separates mothers of living children from bereaved mothers, women longing to become mothers, and those who find themselves childless by circumstance, never to be a mother. I've tried, over the years of infertility and grief, to make this day more inclusive. To claim it as my own, a day for me and others who are not normally recognized as mothers. And still, I feel like an "other", and my other-ness re-opens wounds that are otherwise on the path to healing.

While I love the social media posts that recognize me, the memes that tell me I am not forgotten, hearing "You too! You're welcome here!", has made me realize I was not welcome in the first place, necessitating this kind empathetic soul extending an invitation. Small things that were never intended to harm reinforce my other-ness. When new moms are wished a "happy first mother's day", it is clear that this day is not for me, because I have never experienced giving birth, waking up to feed a hungry newborn, choking down cold toast with jam that my kindergartner brought to me for breakfast in bed.  First mother's day implies that this day wasn't for you when you were pregnant with the child you lost at 22 weeks, or when you wished for a baby with all your heart. It implies that nothing counts other than caring for the living, breathing child you now hold in your arms. And that puts me squarely in the category of "other".

Yet mothering is so much more than giving birth and/or raising a child that is legally yours. My other-ness does not stop me from mentoring, supporting others in their pursuits and offering guidance and advice as they chart their own path through this life. It does not stop me from identifying the strengths in those around me, encouraging them, building self-confidence, and empowering them to try, fail, and try again. It does not stop me from nurturing, being a shoulder to cry on, an ear to really listen deep, a hand to hold in the darkest moments. It does not stop me from teaching, using seemingly innocuous moments to illustrate a truth, discovery, or different perspective. It does not stop me from challenging others, encouraging them to work hard, to strive for their dreams, and to soar. It does not stop me from loving fiercely, and doing everything in my power to take care of those I love.

Today I recognize that the anger, sadness, and frustration often brought up in me by mother's day is due to my other-ness, feeling unseen and unwelcome. Yet my other-ness also brings strength, empowering me with the capacity to mother far more than I likely would have been able to had my children survived. I will never give birth to a child, but I have birthed new ideas, created community, helped others grow. My energy is not spent on the hard work of parenting, and so I feel more able to spend energy on nurturing my passions, friends, family, colleagues and community.

Let's blur the line that has been drawn, separating mothers of biological and adopted children from those who mother in different ways. There are mothering instincts within each of us, so let's celebrate the loving, supportive power we all have. If you feel like the "other" today, join me in embracing other-ness and together, we will nurture and heal ourselves, each other, and the world.