Why Moms Are Hard to Celebrate

What I’ve Learned About Wanting to Be Seen Without Having to Say So.

It’s that annual holiday again—Mother’s Day—and if you’re anything like me, it doesn’t always land with uncomplicated joy. After 17 years of approaching this day, I often feel a tangle of emotions.

This week, I saw a post online encouraging partners to truly let the moms in their lives step down for the day. It struck a chord and got me wondering:
Why is it hard for so many partners to celebrate the women they love?

Here’s what I’ve come to:

• Some don’t want to.

• Some don’t know how.

• Most care deeply but are afraid of getting it wrong.

If your partner seems to fall into category one, that’s a bigger conversation—maybe even a deeper reckoning. But for the second and third? I’ve learned that the best place to start isn’t blame or shame—but curiosity, and a little self-reflection.

Like so many moms, I’m the planner in our household. I keep the calendar, think in seasons, and plan for school events, vacations, birthdays, and holidays—often all at once. Just last week, I caught myself thinking about Christmas, in May! That’s how far ahead I catch myself planning.

So when Mother’s Day rolls around—the one day I’m not supposed to plan—it’s unsettling. The shift has historically felt uncomfortable for both me and my husband. On one hand, I crave a break. On the other hand, I still have specific hopes: who I’d like to see, what we might do, how it should feel. It’s more than just a card or brunch—it’s about thoughtfulness, inclusion, and care.

So how do I get what I want without doing it all myself?

After a string of Mother’s Days that didn’t land quite right, I’ve realized: Sometimes I don’t get what I want because I haven’t clearly asked for it, BUT ESPECIALLY because I haven’t let go enough to trust it will happen. I forget to release the expectations that it will unfold in the exact way I would do it.

And that’s the rub.

I have a kind and capable partner. But I’ve often struggled to release control, even when I say I want to. I jump in, take over, and then feel disappointed that he didn’t take the lead, and it didn’t go how I imagined.

That’s on me.

So, I’ve been experimenting: softening my grip, stepping back, and letting love lead—even when it looks imperfect.

We’ve been sold a glossy image of what Mother’s Day “should” look like, but in real life, it’s different for everyone. Each of us has our own version of what feels good and nourishing—and our partners may not automatically know what that is—unless we share it. The goal isn’t to micromanage—but to offer just enough guidance to make room for care, without taking over.

So here’s the softer approach I’m trying:

• Make a wish list.

• Drop a few hints.

• Say something like, “Whatever you plan will be wonderful.”

It might sound simple, but it’s not always easy. There’s vulnerability in trusting that the effort will be there - especially when the fear lingers that nothing will happen at all. Or, that the gesture might not feel as big as the love we give all year.

There are so many layers—of history, expectation, fatigue, and heartache. Families are diverse. And love doesn’t always show up the way we expect. But for those who want to try, let’s meet them halfway.

For what it’s worth, I’m trying again this year.
Letting go.
Speaking clearly.
And then stepping aside to let love take the lead.

To all the moms out there, in every version and season of motherhood:
Happy Mother’s Day.
May you feel loved, seen, and celebrated.
Whatever that looks like for you, may it be enough.
Now go do what makes you feel most alive. You deserve it.