To all the women who’ve raised babies that weren’t their own.
Thank you for loving them, caring for them, and making them feel safe when it was never meant to be your responsibility.
To all the aunts who picked up the phone more than the one who was meant to raise you.
Thank you for showing up, being reliable, and comforting your nieces and nephews.
Thank you for giving advice and love, even when it’s inconvenient for you.
To all the sisters who raised their siblings as though they were the parent.
Thank you for protecting them at the expense of your own safety.
Thank you for giving up your childhood to ensure your siblings could have one of their own.
To all the strangers who’ve hugged motherless children (or adults) freely.
Thank you for giving them hope that someone, somewhere, can love them consistently.
Thank you for speaking words of encouragement that became lifelong anchors.
To all the moms who are amazing.
Thank you for sacrificing so much, for being selfless in all you do, for making your daughters feel like princesses and your sons like princes.
Thank you for being an example to those who never had a mother figure to look up to.
To all the moms who feel like they’ve failed.
I’m so sorry you feel like you could never do anything right or be there for your kids as much as you should’ve been.
I’m sorry that you sit there, wondering what went wrong when your children don’t want to talk to you.
To all those who have lost their moms or mother figures.
I’m so sorry you’re facing this day with an ache that won’t go away, forced to carry on while the world can’t see your pain.
Though nothing can replace her, may you always find comfort in the loving memories you hold dear.
To all the women who have tried to have babies for years.
I’m so sorry you’re starting to lose hope, beginning to doubt your worth, and questioning your purpose.
I’m sorry you often feel you have to smile because there’s no ‘evidence’ of your pain.
To all the moms who have gone through heartbreak.
Losing your only baby, and being met with sorrow and confusion every time you’re asked, “Are you a mom?” is unimaginable.
Losing a child and still having to show up for your other children daily is a strength many will never understand.
And if you are a mom who has miscarried, once, twice, twenty times, or even more, I’m so incredibly sorry.
To all the women whose hope of being a mom is crushed.
I’m sorry that the dream you have of raising babies still hasn’t come to fruition, that doctors keep telling you it would take a miracle.
I’m sorry for the ache of waiting, hoping, and wondering.
To all the children who have cried, wondering if their mom will ever be kind.
My heart hurts thinking about how many times you’ve begged God for another, and I pray that you can or have experienced this motherly love from another.
Happy Mother’s Day to those celebrating with joy and to those grieving in pain.
I hope this post made you feel seen. 🌸
Many Blessings, Grace. Xx
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