So, today I found myself spiraling into the history of Mother’s Day. It’s funny how one little thought can snowball into a full-blown investigation. I’ll admit, I don’t usually dwell on the day much. My own relationship with my mother doesn’t exactly lend itself to warm and fuzzy feelings. Add to that the fact that, after my daughter passed away, the world just seemed to quietly move on without acknowledging that I’m still a mother, even if my child isn’t here to celebrate with me. That’s why the idea of “Mother’s Day” felt like a loose thread my brain just had to tug on.

Honoring mothers is not just a Hallmark invention, though they definitely cashed in later. The Greeks and Romans were at it first, throwing elaborate festivals for their maternal goddesses. The Greeks had Rhea, a mother-figure among gods, and the Romans partied for Cybele, their Great Mother, complete with parades and ceremonies. It’s ironic to picture these ancient celebrations because I doubt, they involved burnt toast served in bed or awkward school crafts. These moms or goddesses were treated with a lot more pomp and circumstance.

Fast-forward a few centuries to medieval Europe, and we get Mothering Sunday. Originally, it was about returning to your “mother church” during Lent, which sounds very proper and religious. Over time, though, people started using the day to appreciate their actual mothers, presenting them with flowers or small tokens. Even medieval kids knew the universal truth: give your mom something nice, and you might get fewer chores.

The modern Mother’s Day, though, came from a more personal and heartfelt place. Anna Jarvis was the driving force behind it, inspired by her own mother, Ann Reeves Jarvis. Ann wasn’t just any woman she was a social activist who dedicated her life to improving sanitation and reducing child mortality. She founded “Mothers’ Day Work Clubs,” which doesn’t exactly sound like a party but did a lot of good for struggling communities. She also worked during the Civil War to promote reconciliation, which, knowing human nature, was no small feat.

When Ann passed away, Anna wanted to create a day to honor her and all mothers who made sacrifices for their families. The first formal Mother’s Day celebration happened in 1908, complete with carnations white ones, specifically, which Anna said symbolized pure love. By 1914, the holiday became official in the United States, thanks to Anna’s relentless campaigning. I have to admire her determination. She wasn’t looking for grand gestures, just a simple day of appreciation. Unfortunately, the commercialization of the day would later leave her regretting the whole thing. She spent her later years railing against its transformation into a capitalist bonanza, which feels darkly ironic.

As Mother’s Day spread to other countries, it started to take on different forms. In Mexico, it’s a vibrant celebration filled with music and community gatherings. In India, the day meshes with traditions of goddess worship, which feels deeply symbolic. In some places, it’s still tied to religious observances. It’s interesting how something so universal can also be so culturally specific.

The day, for all its history, isn’t a one-size-fits-all kind of thing. It’s complicated, just like motherhood itself. Not all mothers fit the storybook ideal, and not all relationships with mothers are warm and wonderful. And then there are mothers like me those who have lost their children. Society doesn’t always know how to acknowledge us, which can make the day feel hollow or even painful. But we’re still mothers. That identity doesn’t vanish with loss, even if the world seems to think otherwise.

At its core, Mother’s Day is a day to reflect on the human experience of motherhood its joys, its sacrifices, its complexities. It’s not about seeing mothers as superheroes but as people, full of strengths and flaws, laughter and heartache. Some mothers are cherished, others are complicated, and some are grieving. The day doesn’t have to be perfect, just as no mother is perfect. It’s a chance to think about what motherhood means to each of us, in all its messy, beautiful, and deeply human layers.

Mother’s Day stands out to me for its mix of celebration and reflection. It’s a chance to honor the tireless work of mothers while acknowledging that motherhood isn’t one-size-fits-all. For some, it’s joyful; for others, it’s complex or bittersweet. The day resonates because it reflects personal stories, whether they involve gratitude, loss, or identity. It’s messy, beautiful, and deeply human just like motherhood itself. What makes this day stand out to you?