Still Mothers: Honoring Bereaved Mothers on Their Day

May 3 marks International Bereaved Mothers’ Day, a gentle yet powerful reminder to honor mothers whose children live on in their hearts rather than in their arms.

I am one of them. My son Lucas was stillborn on May 14, 2018. The day before was the traditional Mother’s Day. I woke up radiant, convinced it was the first of many with him. It was, instead, our only one.

Lucas means “light.” In the weeks after his death, that light in my world felt extinguished, leaving me submerged in deep sorrow and ocean of tears. When someone first called me a “bereaved mother,” I didn’t understand what he meant. I looked the word “bereaved” and learned that it means being deprived of someone you love. That definition struck a chord with me. I am truly a bereaved mother. Instead of raising my son, I buried him.

In the years since my loss, I have connected with countless other bereaved mothers—women who have faced the heartbreak of losing children to miscarriage, stillbirth, illness, accidents, war, or suicide. Despite our diverse backgrounds, our grief resonates in a shared language.

Unfortunately, society often fails to recognize and support bereaved mothers. In the past, many mothers were not allowed to see or hold their stillborn babies due to the mistaken belief that doing so would hinder their healing and affect future pregnancies. This practice only deepened the sorrow and isolation experienced by bereaved mothers.

In traditional Chinese culture, as my father once explained, women who suffered repeated child losses and had no living children were sometimes divorced and buried separately from the family plot to protect the family's fortune from being tainted by her "bad luck."

Even today in America, child loss remains shrouded in silence. When I mention that my son was stillborn, discomfort often follows. Some offer a quick “I’m sorry” and change the subject; others find excuses to drift away. Friends who were compassionate at first can grow impatient as time goes by, as if grief should have an expiration date. But it doesn’t.

Individuals who have not faced the heartbreaking loss of a child often fail to grasp that regardless of how or when we lost our beloved children, the pain lingers, and the longing for them remains ever-present. We bereaved mothers simply learn to carry our children with us everywhere. In the words of E.E. Cummings, “I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart).”

It’s also crucial for people to understand that bereaved mothers do not wallow in despair, consumed by anger towards the world—though we may feel that way in the immediate aftermath of our loss. The death of our children irrevocably alters our lives; priorities that once seemed important fade into insignificance. This heartbreaking reality compels us to reassess what truly matters and to embrace each moment, never taking life for granted again.

In our quest to honor our children and ensure their legacy endures, countless loss mothers engage actively in their communities. Some mothers courageously share their stories and vulnerabilities, striving to change the culture that treats child loss as a taboo topic. Some create scholarships for families in need, while others launch nonprofit organizations dedicated to supporting fellow grieving parents. Some become passionate advocates, working to reduce instances of child loss, such as stillbirth, so that fewer families have to experience the profound sorrow we have endured.

For me, that purpose is producing “The Due Time”, a documentary film about stillbirth awareness and prevention. It’s my way of continuing to mother Lucas and ensuring his light helps spare other families this heartbreak. In parenting our children’s legacies, we continue to mother them.

Traditional Mother’s Day, with its relentless focus on living children and commercial cheer, can feel isolating. That pain inspired Australian artist Carly Marie Dudley to create International Bereaved Mothers’ Day in 2010 after the stillbirth of her son Christian. She understood a simple truth: we remain mothers forever.

Since its inception in 2010, Bereaved Mother’s Day has grown, yet it often goes unnoticed by those outside the loss community. It’s essential that we do not allow this day to fade into obscurity. This Sunday, remember the mothers who carry invisible children. If you know one, say her child’s name. Tell her she is seen and that her child is remembered. A single thoughtful gesture can pierce years of silence and remind her she is not alone.