I’d spent the last year deep in the chaos of new motherhood — sleepless nights, endless feedings, and a kind of love I never knew existed. So when I shyly suggested celebrating my first Mother’s Day with a simple brunch, my husband laughed it off, and my mother-in-law scoffed.
“That day’s for real mothers,” she said. “You haven’t earned it yet.”
Her words stung. I stayed quiet, swallowing the hurt as the day came and went — no card, no flowers, not even a “Happy Mother’s Day.”
The next morning, it was just me and Lily — my baby girl — alone in the quiet kitchen. Then my phone buzzed with messages from my dad and brothers, each one wishing me a happy Mother’s Day, celebrating me — the new mom doing her best.
I smiled through tears, not realizing they had something even more special planned for later that afternoon.
Just as we were settling in for Donna’s elegant lunch, my family arrived, hands overflowing with bouquets of flowers.