No Perfect Moms, No Perfect Families - And That's Okay

Yesterday was Mother’s Day, and like every year, I nearly forgot it was on the way. 

As a woman with complicated family dynamics, as someone who is always on the go, taking care of others, putting myself at the end of my to-do list and promising that I will get to me at some point, it’s easy to feel unappreciated. It’s easy to feel like the world is on our shoulders, that we’re missing out or not being loved like we should. 

I’m happy to say that this Mother’s Day was quite different. 

I spent the night before working on a painting of my mom. It’s the third one I’ve made, and I was happy with my growth as an artist. She loved it, and I loved that I was able to do that for her. 

The following day, I was surprised by the sweetest homemade gift from my sister and brother-in-law. I was close to tears. Not to be outdone, my son, who struggles with reading, used AI to help him write a Mother’s Day poem in both English and Spanish, because he knows how I love learning languages.

As nice as it may be to receive flowers, trips, or cars, it’s something about a handmade gift that speaks to the soul of who you are as a person. It’s special when you’re able to realize the wealth that surrounds you that may not show up with a number attached but fills your heart more than a gift card ever could. I felt grateful. I felt seen. I felt loved. 

Within the midst of text messages, gifts, and social media posts, I noticed something. I noticed the grieving children of mothers who have passed on, sharing pictures and giving advice to those of us who are blessed to still have our mothers with us. I noticed mothers experiencing feelings of conflict, not wanting to celebrate because of children who have passed on. I noticed sons making awkward connections with estranged moms and granddaughters making uncomfortable visits to grandmothers they barely speak to. I saw content creators posting reminders that parents were humans with their own pain and emotions before they became parents. Growing up, I used to wish that I had the perfect TV family – the kind with perfect hugs, clear communication, and happy conclusions wrapped up in 30 minutes.  Today, I realize that no mother, no child, and no family is without flaws, without secrets, without pain, or without trauma. In one way or another, we’re all dysfunctional.

And that’s okay.

When I think of my own experiences with my parents, much of it is rooted in the fact that they were babies themselves when I was conceived. They were 13- and 14-year-old kids who knew nothing about being parents. Their fathers weren’t present, and their mothers were young themselves, trying to figure out motherhood as single black women, raising children in one of the most notorious neighborhoods in the country during the 1980s. I was born during Reaganomics and the crack era. Nobody within my family dynamic was expecting or welcoming to the concept of teenage babies creating a baby, and instead of helping them learn to be parents, they acted out of fear and anger. As traumatic as that may have been for me, and as I still deal with much of the fallout from that, I wonder how I’d respond to having a baby bump at 13. When I was 13, all I wanted to do was go to the park with my friends and blow my money on bubble gum and mood lipstick. I wondered how I’d feel at 33, still trying to figure out being a mom and finding out that I’m now a grandmother too. Would I have handled things differently? There’s no way for me to ever know. 

Astrologically speaking, the Scorpio Full Moon is currently illuminating my 4th house – the house of home, family, and emotional foundations. My natal moon and Uranus live there, so I’ve always associated this part of my chart with chaos and trauma. But this full moon feels different. It’s revealing that transformation is possible here. That healing doesn’t always look like that big family reunion – it can look like release, boundaries, self-compassion as well as compassion for others, or simply receiving the love from the people who show up for you now. 

No mother is perfect. No family is perfect. But we all deserve to rewrite the stories we inherited.

This year, Mother’s Day wasn’t about pretending or performing. It was about truth, softness, and letting love in – on my terms.