To the mamas who don't have it all together, today or any day

If your FB newsfeed looks anything like mine in the week leading up to Mother's Day, you'll have seen lots of posts from friends celebrating motherhood - questionnaires about pregnancy and birth, ultrasounds or newborn photos contrasted with pictures of the kid now, old photographs of people's mothers and grandmothers, and a lot of sentimental captions from children thanking their mothers, husbands celebrating their wives, and mothers reflecting on the wonder of their journeys. Along with these, there are also the posts acknowledging that Mother's Day is a hard day for many people - for those who want to be mothers but are once again meeting this day childless, for those who've lost a child or those who've lost their mother and are feeling that loss more keenly again today, and for those with difficult or broken mother/child relationships, among others.

I'll be honest: I really enjoy seeing people's posts this time of year, both the celebrations and the struggles. But this year I realized that despite all the posts I've seen, it felt like something was missing. No where did I see posts recognizing the drastically contrasting emotions that have defined these past two years for me, no where did I see anything allowing mothers with healthy children and no losses to admit that they're really struggling with this whole motherhood thing, no where did I see people acknowledging that this day can be emotionally difficult even for those without a big reason making it hard. Let's change that, shall we?

Happy Mother's Day,

To the mother feeling guilty because you have friends who want kids so badly and have gone through so much trying to get there, while you got pregnant easily but have so many days where you feel ambivalent at best about motherhood, and a decent few days where you just want to return the kid to sender.

To the mother whose worst fear was realized when you were separated from your newborn, who now frequently feels like a terrible person for how much you want a day where you could leave behind your child and also turn off your mom-brain for a while.

To the mother reading the same book aloud for the forty-seventh time this week, faking enthusiasm while inwardly wondering yet again why you ever set aside an intellectually stimulating job for the tedium of dealing with a small child.

To the mother whose heart thrills with joy when your little one snuggles on your shoulder and pats you while repeating, "Mama," over and over again, while simultaneously being so tired of them being clingy and wishing you could put them down without having them scream bloody murder.

To the mother holding your teething toddler for yet another nap, listening to their little breaths and gently shushing them every time they whimper and get close to waking, wondering when you will hold them like this for the last time, as you savor the closeness and also long for a day when you won't end up nap trapped by an increasingly heavier baby.

To the mother who was told you would feel differently about kids once you had them and who now knows that's true in some very important ways and oh-so-wrong in others.

To the mother doubting yourself at every step of the way and moving forward anyway, feeling lost and overwhelmed and also so in love with your child, crying one minute because of how much your life has changed and then over the moon with joy the next for exactly the same reason.

I see you. I am you. And I will be here for you if you need a friend to come alongside you for a moment or a season or a lifetime, because while I'm pretty sure we mothers must be braver and stronger than we think we are, we're also braver and stronger together than alone. You're welcome in my life anytime, and feel free to bring your mess with you - it will pair perfectly with mine.