I adore my church. It’s my family. They work so hard to love people well and to ensure that people feel welcomed. But as Mother’s Day approaches once again, I am reminded of a glaring blind spot in that well-intentioned desire.

My husband and I have chosen to be childfree since we got engaged. We talked about potentially having kids five or ten years down the line when we were dating, but as we got closer to marriage we both realized that neither of us had the desire to bear or raise children. 

Although we haven’t told everyone in our church, simply because not everyone has asked, most know about our lack of desire for children and, especially those closest to us, understand it and see that we utilize the energy we would be using to raise children to serve others in our church and our community. 

Our church is full of people who don’t fit the average American household. We have singles over 30, foster families, families grown strictly by adoption, families with both adopted and biological children, divorced families, and remarried families. I know that our church leaders try to make sure every family is included. But sometimes, that intention of inclusion is what makes us feel so apart. 

Ever since my first married Mother’s Day, I felt out of place. At that point in life I already knew it was a title I never wanted for myself. I love mentoring young girls, and as I get older, young women, but I never saw myself as a mom, in any capacity. 

That first Mother’s Day, I tried to do what made the most since to me: remove myself from the celebration. This was a celebration for those who longed to be called Mom but hadn’t gotten the chance yet, those who became mothers and felt overwhelmed and under thanked, those who jumped head-first into motherhood and loved every minute of it, and those who had taken on the role of mother to children that aren’t their own.

I had purposefully extricated myself from that role. So I sat, as all the mothers and those who desired to be mothers stood around me to receive their small token of appreciation. Then I was forced to stand. It was certainly well-meant–it was a woman who saw me removing myself and surely thought I deserved to be standing. So I stood, awkward and feeling more singled out by standing. 

I never feel less respected for my choice to remain childfree than on Mother’s Day. The day where everyone tries to see everyone as a mother, so no one is left out. And I want every woman who desires to be a mother to be honored. They should be. This is a day to celebrate them! But I also want to be respected for my choice to never take that title. I want to be allowed to be left out. I want to be allowed to sit and celebrate others rather than be forced to celebrate myself in a capacity I have chosen to never take on. 

I spent the last Mother’s Day at my church hiding in the women’s bathroom waiting for that portion of the day to be over. This year, I’m not even going to church on Mother’s Day. Our church does a wonderful job loving people. But this is a day when the misfits become the trodden on.

I ask for one simple change. Allow those of us who have no desire for motherhood to remove ourselves and let the spotlight shine on those who truly desire motherhood.