Day One — For the Mother Spending Mother’s Day Alone

Hello family and friends,

Thank you for stopping by and taking a moment with me in my little corner of the internet. I love this time we spend together. Even though we can’t see each other, it still feels sacred — a quiet place where I can open my heart and speak my truth, and you show up to receive it. I don’t take that lightly. This has become our corner, and I’m grateful for every person who pulls up a chair here.

This week, I’m stepping back into a mini‑series. With Mother’s Day approaching, I wanted to walk us gently toward that tender, complicated, beautiful day — a day that holds so many stories, so many emotions, so many truths.

So welcome to our 7‑day Mother’s Day Sanctuary Series. My hope is that somewhere in these words, you feel what I’m trying to convey — love, recognition, softness, and a place to breathe.

From my corner tonight… this is for the mother who is spending Mother’s Day alone.

I’ve been thinking about you — the way the world forgets that some mothers sit in quiet houses on days like this. The way the silence can feel heavier than any celebration. The way your heart still remembers every small hand you held, every morning you rose, every moment you gave… even if no one shows up to honor it.

If I could sit across from you right now, I’d take your hands in mine and tell you something you may not have heard in a very long time: you matter. Your motherhood matters. The love you poured out — the love you still carry — didn’t disappear just because today feels empty.

I know the ache that comes when a day meant for honoring you passes by unnoticed. I know the sting of scrolling past photos of flowers and brunches and smiling families while your own story looks different. I know how easy it is to wonder if you failed, or if you’re forgotten, or if you somehow don’t belong in the celebration.

But you do.

You always have.

For most of my life — and the lives of my children — we were robbed of Mother’s Day. For me, it was never about being celebrated. It was about teaching my sons that there is meaning in being a mom, a mother, a caretaker of children. That honoring the woman who raised you is a lesson in love, gratitude, and humanity.

But inside the confines of cult life, they were taught something else. They were taught that celebrating their mother was against God. They were taught that women were lesser than. They were taught to withhold what should have been freely given.

Life has changed for the three of us. We can now spend Mother’s Day together. We can learn — together — what it means to honor a mother’s heart, whether her children are small or grown.

The greatest gift my sons can ever give me is their time. Just being in their presence means the world to me.

We have a lifetime of memories to make up for — and a lifetime still ahead to create new ones. And believe me, we’re going to make them count.

And I feel doubly blessed, because Grant celebrates me too. One of my bonus sons. One more heart in my corner. One more reminder that motherhood expands in ways we never expect.

If tonight finds you alone, please know you’re not forgotten. You’re not invisible. You’re not outside the circle of what makes a mother worthy of honor. You belong here — with us, in this corner, in this story, in this week of remembering what motherhood really means.

Come back tomorrow, love. We’ll sit with another piece of the motherhood story — one held by so many women yet spoken by so few. I’ll meet you right here, in our quiet corner.

P.S.

If your eyes filled while reading this, let them. Tears are just love finding its way out. You don’t have to hold everything in anymore. Not here. Not with me.

With love from my corner,

Dawna‑Rae

🦋 may the softest parts of you feel seen tonight