When Mother’s Day is Hard

Motherhood is complicated.  The Torah teaches us this.  It is filled with women whose mothers are absent, who struggle to become mothers, struggle to raise their children, and endure physical and emotional losses along the way.  

Chava (Eve) loses a child to fratricide when her son Cain kills his brother Hevel (Abel). 

Sarah struggles to conceive for decades and is so desperate to have a child that she encourages her husband, Abraham, to take another wife and carry on his legacy through another woman.

Rivka (Rebecca) also struggles to become pregnant, and when she does, experiences such a difficult pregnancy that she bemoans, “Why me?!” Then, as they age, her sons grow to hate each other, and she is forced to choose between them.

Rachel also struggles to grow her family and dies during childbirth as her son Binyamin (Benjamin) enters the world.  

And the list goes on.  

There are women whose children we never hear about, like Queen Esther, perhaps they were not mothers, and there are many women whose mothers are never mentioned. Were they alive? Were they estranged? Was their role in their daughter’s life not significant enough to warrant mentioning? 

As I reflect upon these snapshots of motherhood in the Torah, I am so grateful to see that the Torah does not present us with the flawless image, the Hallmark card version of mothers and mothering. The Torah makes space for all those who struggle with the loss of their mother, family estrangement, fertility struggles, and the loss of a child to be reflected in its text—to be seen and to be heard.  

Each year as Mother’s Day approaches, these narratives of the Torah float through my mind as I wonder, what would this day feel like for Chava? Would Sarah have experienced loneliness and isolation as an 88-year-old on Mother’s Day? Would Rikva have dreaded this day with the onset of the month of May? Would Binyamin want to shut out the world as he felt the deep loss of his mother, while his half-brothers celebrated theirs? 

How many women today struggle with this day for a myriad of reasons, and more importantly, what can we, as a community, do to support them? In my past work leading healing circles for women struggling to grow their families with Uprooted: A Jewish Communal Response to Fertility Journeys, I sat with some of these women and heard how challenging Mother’s Day was for them, how isolating it can feel.

I have heard many women share their heartache of losing a child. What might it feel like for them, passing the flowers and cards on display in the stores, hearing others discussing their plans for celebrating the day? What about the women who have lost their mother this year, or decades ago, and find themselves empty without the ability to be with their mother in this world? Or the woman who chooses not to live life as a mother? Or the mother whose children will no longer speak with her? Or the children who have been written out of their mother’s life?

These are all people navigating “motherhood” and “mothering.” How can these women, and so many others, face Mother’s Day in a manner that expresses self-care and reflects the Jewish value of community?  Does the Torah have a model to approach this question? 

There is one more woman in the Torah who may help us reflect on this question. She is not the mother of one of our Jewish forefathers or leaders, but rather one of our enemies. The mother of Sisera, who is mentioned in the book of Judges, makes a brief and poignant appearance in the text. Her son is off fighting against the Jewish people, and she is described as peering through the window anxiously awaiting his return from battle. She asks, “Why is his chariot so long in coming? Why so late the clatter of his wheels?” (Judges 5:28). The answer is clear to the one studying this text, as he has already been killed in the previous chapter, but his mother does not yet have confirmation of his fate. We see motherly intuition telling her that something is wrong.  

I never understood why her story is included in the text. Why does our text give space to this mother of an enemy? What does the mother of Sisera’s plight add to our understanding of mothers who endure unthinkable loss? For a while, I assumed she offered a lesson in compassion—mothers of our enemies suffer heartbreak, too. Or perhaps, one can see the good in one’s child and love them despite their wickedness. 

However, when thinking more about the challenges that Mother’s Day presents for so many, I think it is actually this verse that offers the chiddush (new teaching).  “The wisest of her ladies give answer.” (Judges 5:29). This answer that her wisest lady gives is not actually recorded. The verse continues with the way in which the mother of Sisera explains his delay to herself (and it is not a kind explanation in terms of his treatment of the Jewish people).

The wisest woman’s words are not the lesson, but rather it is her presence. It is the women around her. It is the fact that all of the previous women seem to struggle and endure loss and pain on their own, without the support of a circle of loved ones. But the mother of Sisera has this. She has a circle to hold her as she waits, and I assume she also has one to hold her after she receives the news of her son’s fate in battle. I hope that they were also there for every Mother’s Day after that.  

Perhaps that is why Sisera’s mother is not given a name. It is not she in particular that we are meant to learn from, but rather the dynamic of someone experiencing heartache who is held by her loved ones, her friends, and her community. The mother of Sisera asks us to think about how we show up for mothers in their times of struggle.

So this week, we need to ask ourselves: What can we do this year to care for those for whom Mother’s Day is hard? 

For the third year, the SVIVAH community is hosting circles of support for women who struggle with this Mother’s Day for a wide variety of reasons. No one should feel like they are alone. This is a moment of community when motherhood or mothering is hard –  a group of women to sit with, whose words are not that important but whose compassionate presence and understanding are vital. 

If you know someone who could use some extra tenderness next Sunday, are you able to reach out to them with an act of care and kindness? Motherhood is complicated, and our community holds it all. 

May all those who find this day hard find the care and compassion they need.