Mothering Sunday is not my favourite day. And that is said by someone fortunate enough to be a mother to two energetic and interesting boys, and also have my own mum just down the road. But hear me out, and let me tell you why I find this day instead as a time I often reflect, and spend time thinking about this ‘celebration’ possibly being one of the most painful days of the year for so many people.

Traditionally, it’s a time to thank our mothers — for the countless unseen acts, the steady presence, the fierce protection, and the soft places they create for us to land. But “mothering” is bigger than one title or one relationship. It’s a role carried by many. This is why I much prefer the term ‘mothering’, rather than the more specific label of ‘Mother’s’.

Mothering is found in grandmothers and step-mothers, in aunts, sisters, foster carers and adoptive parents. It lives in fathers who nurture with tenderness, in grandparents who step in, in friends who check in, in teachers and mentors who guide with patience. It is the friend who shows up with food, the elder who listens without judgement. To mother is to care deeply, to hold space, to encourage growth, and to love in ways both ordinary and extraordinary.

On Mothering Sunday, we also hold space for those whose mothers are no longer here. For the ache of missing a voice, a touch, a familiar laugh. We remember them in stories, in recipes passed down, in habits we’ve inherited without realising. Love does not disappear; it changes form. For many, this day carries both gratitude and grief, side by side.

We also think gently of those who long to be mothers, those who have lost children, and those whose relationships with their mothers are complicated. This day can be raw and painful in many ways.

At its heart, Mothering Sunday is about recognising nurturing love wherever we find it — and wherever we give it. It’s about honouring the people who have helped us grow, and acknowledging the ways we, too, may mother others in quiet, powerful ways. Being that person who can offer comfort, calm, the feeling that ‘everything will be okay’ to someone. I wanted to write this post just as a gentle reminder, that yes celebrate in a way that works for you and your family… (all I ever ask for is a coffee in bed and some daffs from the garden) but hold it in mind that not everyone wants reminding of this day in the calendar. It’s hard to avoid, as shops are pushing it, the feeling you need to spend something to show your love, but the greatest way to show love, is to simply see and hear people…tune in to what they need, for me, I never feel more loved than when someone truly meets me where I am in life.

Go gently.

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