Mother’s Day always sneaks up on me and takes me by surprise in a weird way. I think it’s a great day, and I truly believe in honoring the hard working mothers that do so much. I love my mom, and am thankful for all that she has done for me throughout my life. But for someone who is not a “technical” mother, Mother’s Day can be a hard day.

It didn’t used to be. Ever since I returned home from tour with the African Children’s Choir, Mother’s Day hits me hard. It’s sometimes a very painful reminder that there are children that I helped mother, who are now continents away from me. They are no longer in my life, and some days the reminder of that is just too much. These kids were a constant part of my life for three years, and now… no more.

When tour was wrapping up, all of us chaperones were doing the best we could to process our way toward the end. I remember talking with one of my fellow chaperones about how it would be when it was all over. She commented that there was going to be the void of having no one to nurture anymore. That was truly a very difficult thing. I remember wiping my tears in the London airport, after painfully watching my kids walk away, and then walking towards the bathroom to wash my face. I kept turning around, looking for the line of 25 kids that used to follow me. There was nothing behind me. I was a mother duck no more.

As I returned home and resumed “normal” life again, the pain lessened. The daily reminders diminished, and the ache dulled to almost nothing. I still miss my kids, but I can think of them without wanting to sit in a corner and cry. The past couple Mother’s Days, I was going about my day as normal, when the reminders came crashing back on me, and I spent the day in a funk, missing my kids more than ever.

This year, I woke up and started my day aware that it was Mother’s Day, but feeling okay. I thought of my kids, but was okay. We got to church and they did the usual honoring of the Mother’s, and our pastor prayed a special prayer. All of a sudden, the dull ache returned, and I started getting weepy. I wiped my eyes, wishing I hadn’t worn mascara, and wondered if the funk would return this year. Fortunately, it didn’t. I wept for my kids and the fact that they’re not in my life anymore, and then I was okay. I was thankful that I can still grieve that loss, but not have it consume me.

Another reason that Mother’s Day is sometimes difficult is that many people don’t consider me a mother. Fortunately, many people are growing more sensitive to this, and include “Mother’s of the heart,” or special women who have helped to raise and nurture children that aren’t their own. I appreciate this greatly, but still hesitate to stand when all the mothers in the church building are asked to stand. There will be people giving me quizzical looks, and maybe I’m also worried there will be rumors started that I’m pregnant or something. I know I shouldn’t worry about what people think, but I also know that I don’t need to stand up to be a mother. I know that I was a mother to those kids, and for that, I am grateful.