A note to mothers on Mother’s Day

Dear Mothers,

I want you know:

I see you

I hear you

I feel you

I know our motherly minds

I know the inner criticism, harsher than anyone else would dare serve on us

I know the sharp pangs of regret from the raised voice or hand, the signs we missed, the times we weren’t there despite the little voice inside insisting otherwise

I know the struggle of letting go, as they start to spread their wings

I know the struggle to hold on, as they push back or act out

I know the deep sense of loss of all the hopes and dreams we had for them (that were really ours anyway and should never have been laid upon their tiny hearts, minds and souls)

I know the paralyzing fear that their chosen path will lead them to harm or misery

I know the burn of blame in the chest when things go wrong, that mean inner voice incessantly whispering “this is all your fault”

I know the longing for simpler times, when they gazed adoringly, listened to all you said, and fell asleep content in your arms

I know the terrifying helplessness when they fall in love, riding the rollercoaster of emotion, only to come crashing down heart broken, or having broken another’s heart

I know the gut wrenching “not good enough” that is ever present, or sneakily interrupts your happy Tuesday for no apparent reason

I know that thief of joy comparison, as every other mother looks like she has it all together (and how you’re pretty sure most don’t)

I know the guilt that drains the delight from your life when you know they’re not doing so great at the moment

I know the burden on your shoulders, carrying more weight than you’re due, that never lifts and sometimes chokes you up at 1am so you jump up awake, grasping for air

I know

I know the joy of watching them thriving, happy and living their best lives, how their smile and sound of their laughter washes over you like a wave of thick, warm honey

I know the rush and surge of satisfaction as they break through, act with courage and kindness in the face of life’s difficulties

I know how an enveloping hug feels after the distance made you forget their scent and their strength

I know the way the heart races when the long awaited text or phone call buzzes into your hand

I know the flood of relief to know they’re OK and they’re coming home

I know the peace that arrives, a reminder your bond is as strong as it was when you carried them in the womb, your hearts and minds connected so all the thoughts, victories and emotions were truly shared

I know you work hard at unconditional love, freeing them and yourself from judgement and expectations

I know you parent by instinct which is sometimes trusted and occasionally ignored

I know you look back and wish you’d done better, or more, or less

I know you just want to give them the best chance at a happy, successful life

I know you’ve done the best you can, even if at times that wasn’t very good

I know they love you

I know they see you

I know they feel you

I know they hear you

I know it’s always worth it and you’ll never regret hanging in there.