Mother’s Day is not my favorite day of the year. It is everywhere. In television ads, in brunch menus, and in heartfelt posts filled with joy. While so many celebrate, there is another truth: this day can ache.
For those walking through infertility, endometriosis, adenomyosis, silent infertility, chronic pain, or the muffled grief of childlessness not by choice, this day often feels like a screaming reminder of what is missing. Decisions may be made a long time ago, but there is a quiet aftermath of hurt, sometimes resurfacing only on Mother’s Day. It is a day that somehow connects with the deepest of dark aches that most have hidden from the world.
For those living with endometriosis, who’ve fought so hard just to be heard by doctors, who carry both invisible pain and invisible dreams, Mother’s Day may feel like yet another silent battle.
This battle means existing in a world where others have no shame in asking things like where are your kids or how many kids do you have or when are you having kids or did you try IVF to fix it, as if you are somehow flawed, a problem to be fixed and as if IVF is some magical bullet that makes babies pop out no matter what.
For those with this battle behind them, Mother’s Day trauma echoes so loudly that any distance you put between you and your infertility is destroyed. For those who have lost their mothers, or never had the kind they needed, it can feel like standing in a crowd while no one sees their pain and grief.
So if this is you, let me say this clearly:
I see you. I am you. We are worthy. You are not alone. You are not here without your journey being witnessed. You matter.
Your story deserves space.
Your strength, our strength as people with endometriosis and adenomyosis, displayed in the moments of enduring pain others can’t see, in holding hope, in choosing health, in choosing peace—is extraordinary.
Honoring yourself on Mother’s Day isn’t about silver linings or toxic positivity. We all have people around us missing the point. Honoring yourself on Mother’s Day is about your truth. It is about making space for complicated emotions. It’s okay if you are angry. It’s okay if you are numb. It’s okay to feel your aching. There is no right way to feel on Mother’s Day.
Many of us are taught to put others’ feelings first, not to make waves, and not to allow our struggles to seep into anyone else’s world. This is your story; you don’t have to execute Mother’s Day (or any other day, for that matter) in a way that makes sense to anyone else but you. The boundary you set is about you and no one else.
You don’t need to smile through it for others.
You don’t need to explain why it is hard.
You are allowed to protect or expose your heart. That decision is part of your power.
Anchors to lean on when the day feels heavy
An anchor is something that helps you feel steady when everything around you feels too heavy or overwhelming. It may help you stay grounded, calm and connected to yourself when the triggers of Mother’s Day rumble. It’s a small thing that gently reminds you: I am still here. I am okay right now.
Anchors don’t fix the pain, but they may help you get through it. They’re the things you can hold onto when the day feels too big.
Here are a few things you might try if the day feels heavy:
Choose where you put your energy and where you don’t put it
You don’t have to go to the brunch, the gathering, or scroll through social media if it is too much. You can give yourself permission to opt out—even when others will try to guilt you into behaving the way they want, you are allowed to come first. Sadly, if you had to, you can always say Sallie Sarrel says it’s fine to stay home. I know my family would never listen unless they were told someone other than me held this belief.
Make space for the ritual
Light a candle. Write a letter. Take a walk. Take your favorite exercise class or tennis clinic. Eat your favorite meal. It doesn’t matter what you do, but do something that honors your story, your grief, your unique experience, and your strength.
Find your people
Text or DM a friend who gets it. Wallow in your online community or with your tribe of people who are the ones who understand. Realize the “No Children Club” and the “No Moms Club” are places many are in, and it is okay to be angry or hurt that you are there. Sometimes reaching out to just one person who says “me too” changes everything. You may feel beaten down by this disease, that endometriosis and adenomyosis have destroyed a little part of you, and it has, so many out there are in the same boat and truly see you.
Speak your truth
Journal it. Whisper it. Stand in your driveway and shout it at the moon. Make a social media post. But speak the words. It is okay if this day dredges up feelings despite you putting your fertility experiences behind you. You can be mad or sad about what endometriosis and adenomyosis took from you. It is fine to wish things were different. Naming the pain helps, even if you are the only one who hears it.
Rest without guilt
Chronic illness, emotional exhaustion, and grief are real burdens. So is fending off relatives, society, and everyone else who thinks you should somehow be defined by what human came out of you or who you spent your time raising. Infertility is hard. Choosing yourself over endometriosis and adenomyosis is hard, too. Rest is not a luxury- it’s self-care. Rest takes many forms, don’t forget endless scrolling on TikTok is completely acceptable as a form of rest too, at least in my book it is.
For those with Endometriosis, Adenomyosis, Unexplained Infertility, and Chronic Pain
This day brings unique grief. You may think it is all behind you, but surprise, the pangs will surface again when people move on to grandchildren, and you don’t get that either. Navigating Mother’s Day ignites the deep frustration of a body that doesn’t cooperate, systems that don’t listen (or families that don’t listen), or the loss of dreams you did not choose to lose.
Endometriosis is not “just a bad period.” It is a relentless disease that affects your whole life. A huge bomb that goes off, and we are asked to live amongst the shrapnel. By the way, in case no one has told you or us lately, we are doing an incredible job of surviving all of this.
You are not less.
You are not forgotten.
You deserve safety, connection, joy, pleasure, success, and health.
You are not broken because your path looks different.
If this day brings tears, let them fall. You can be in the beginning, middle, or very past your journey, but your central nervous system and heart still house wounds that whisper. Find moments of peace and let that hold you. Whatever peace means to you. If you can show yourself a little bit of kindness, despite a world that seems to forget all about the childless or the motherless, that is enough.
Endometriosis is a huge burden. This Mother’s Day, may you be seen—not for what’s missing but for all you carry and all you are. May we be seen together, like the warriors we are.
Sending Much Love– Sallie Sarrel, physical therapist, Founder The Endometriosis Summit, person with endometriosis
