This one’s for all the other mothers. The ones no one remembers to talk about.
The mothers who are sick in body or in brain. Or both. Whose days are filled with the insurmountable tasks of daily living, with bodies that fail and emotions that feel overwhelming. All this on top of the demands of mothering.
For the mothers who are plagued by demons of the past. Who are living with the consequences of harm done by others, not sure they can actually break the cycle.
For the mothers addicted to drink or drugs. Who wake up every day hoping to do better, but then succumbing again to the power of trauma and substances, hoping to numb the pain of whatever was done to you.
For the mothers whose babies are being raised in foster or adoptive homes. Your heart aches for the babies you birthed and aren’t raising, perhaps also burning with anger at a system that doesn’t support you the way you need it to.
For the mothers whose children have taken the wrong turn, making choices that are causing themselves harm.
For the mothers who are young, who the world looks at with judgement while you try to do your best for your babies.
For the mothers who experience abuse at the hands of their partners, whose bodies are bruised and hearts are trampled. You who take the blows to protect your children, who feel the sting of shame when others say, “why doesn’t she just leave.” Because it’s not that simple.
For the mothers in the trenches day in and day out. Struggling to get by financially. Fighting with an ex. Losing your temper and then crying with shame into your coffee, wondering if it will always be this hard.
For all the other mothers.
You are seen.
You are loved.