We see you. We see you, mamma, mommy, mum. We see your yoga pants and that huge handbag. We see your weary eyes and aching arms, your sore breasts. We see the spot of spit-up you missed, and the feelings barely tucked in beneath your “I’m okay”.
We hear you. We hear your sureness and your wavering uncertainties. We hear what you say. And we hear what you don’t say . . . in everything you say.
We’ve questioned ourselves too. We’ve secretly thought we were horrible mothers. We’ve secretly thought we might just be wonderful mothers one day. We’ve felt lost in countless hours. We’ve felt the power of having pieces of our heart walking the earth, and the fear that something could break them. We’ve felt the polar pulls to both run away and stay.
The pulse and power of motherhood. The drained devastation of motherhood. A singular journey to be made without a map (or a nap!).
We see you mama. We hear you, mama. And this…..this space is for you.
