Here we are, my very first Mother’s Day with a living baby. But… it’s not my first Mother’s Day.

In 2022, I was 1 week away from my wedding when Mother’s Day hit. It was the furthest thing from my mind. I called my mom, of course, but Mother’s Day wasn’t a big thing in our house growing up, so we didn’t have any huge tradition.

Later in 2022, I became pregnant with Maliyah, and in March 2023, I became not-pregnant. But, no living baby. All before Mother’s Day, 2023.

Was Mother’s Day 2023 my first Mother’s Day? Did I become a mom when I got pregnant? Did I become a mom when I went through labor and delivery? Or did I not become a mom because I never had a living baby in my arms? Mother’s Day 2023 was not only extremely depressing, but very confusing. I hid from the world. I remember I called my mom early in the morning to make sure I didn’t forget, and to get it out of the way so I could hide in my apartment all day. I was terrified to see intact families with alive children at a restaurant, or on the sidewalk, or in the card aisle of Duane Reade. Actually, that’s not true. I went to the movie theater and got a bucket of popcorn and THEN hid at home and ate it by myself in bed.

Then in 2024, I was around 29 weeks pregnant with A when Mother’s Day rolled around. Was 2024 my first Mother’s Day? I was visibly pregnant, but I still had no confidence that I’d be bringing home an alive baby. I received a lot of “Happy Mother’s Days.” It was extremely weird and depressing yet again, because no one recognized me the year prior. I felt just as much a mom in 2024 at Mother’s Day as I felt in 2023. In 2023 I had no living children and I had been 25 weeks pregnant earlier that year. In 2024, I had no living child and I was 29 weeks pregnant. What was the difference?

And now, it’s 2025. And again, I struggle to decide if it’s my first Mother’s Day. People seem to think it is. I have a living baby. (I am writing this 2 days in advance, but I hope he is still alive Sunday). I went through (another) labor and delivery in the past 12 months. I think now, to the whole population, there’s no question I am a mom. But the question remains, was I before? It’s confusing.

Here’s what I know: It’s hard being a dead baby’s mom. It’s hard being an alive baby’s mom. They are both exhausting. One because you’re busy doing nothing but crying all day long. The other, because you’re busy doing nothing but trying to prevent another person from crying all day long. But only the latter is recognized by Hallmark.

I am torn between which is “harder,” but I know I do a lot now for A every day. Early wake ups. Late wakeups. Clean ups. Wipe downs. Stroller walks. Carrier walks. Cleaning toys. Cleaning poop. Cleaning floors. Cleaning bottles. Rocking. Crawling. Mimicking Pterodactyl sounds. It’s a lot, and I appreciate being recognized for it. On Mother’s Day, yes, but also on other days. Chris got me flowers on Friday. They are beautiful. Part of me wants to go out to brunch at a restaurant with my alive baby, and just be a normal alive-baby-mom for normal Mother’s Day. I wanted that so badly for so many years. But part of me feels weird forgetting about those years like they didn’t happen. I’m also thinking of all of the other non-visible moms hiding in their homes from the Duane Reade card aisle. Part of me is still them.

When A was born, I received a gift of “My First” bibs, with all of the holidays including Mother’s Day. This whole week I have been looking forward to wearing matching outfits, me in a dress, and A in a romper, and putting him in his “My First Mother’s Day” bib for photos. Again, it’s definitely his first Mother’s Day, but is it mine?

Then Wednesday, I started thinking about what that same photo would look like with Maliyah in a matching dress, standing on her own, running around while I held Amari, who still can’t quite stand without support. How strange I could have two kids. How strange I DO have two kids, but only one who is here for photos. I’m waiting to feel like a normal mom. Some days, I feel like one, but on holidays like these, it’s hard not to feel different.

I’ll end by saying happy Mother’s Day to everyone who believes they are a mom, whether or not you are recognized by strangers, families, Hallmark or anyone else. I see you and I celebrate you and your strength.