To the mamas out there who are suffering: I stand with you.
I see you. I see you in the grocery store, and I see you at the park. I see you in the pickup line at school, at the bank, the doctor’s office, out in your driveway watching the kids ride bike. I see you everywhere. And I can see, behind your smile, and your kisses for the boo-boos, and your scooping the baby up into your arms, the pain that lies behind your eyes.
Your kids don’t see it. You cover it carefully, plaster yourself with smiles and laughs, cover them in kisses and hugs, but I know it’s there.
Perhaps it’s a diagnosis you can’t believe is true. Maybe your mom, or dad, or aunt, or grandma, are suffering in some way. Perhaps you’ve just been given news that shattered you to your core. Whatever it is, it has broken you, but you will not let them know. You will clutch to those babies, you will treasure each moment, you will make their day the best they’ve ever had.
And then, once the house is quiet, the children all safely and snugly tucked into their beds, stories read, teeth clean, you will go down the hall and you will lie down in your bed and you will sob. The weight of the day…the diagnosis….the news….will come crashing out of you in ways you didn’t know possible. You will scream into the pillow, claw at the sheets, plead for another answer. And then, once it settles, you will wipe your eyes, you will splash your face with water, and you will get ready for tomorrow.
And I stand with you.
travelingmamabear 