• Morgan Hart

Invisible Mothers

I see you Mom. Who spent hours packing the entire household to spend a week a way in excitement and equal exhaustion. Who had to do loads of laundry to have enough clean clothes to pack, needing wine so you could get through the folding and put away process only to take them out for suitcases minutes later. Who cleaned the house so when you come home it’s not more overwhelming since you’ll have to do all the laundry again and unpacking in what will feel like a blink later. I see you Mom… Who just cleaned and organized the playroom for donation toys and to make room for new, while sadly wishing to keep the toys that made them so happy at one point. Who just sorted through closets and drawers as you cried over your growing children’s bodies. I see you. Mom, who did all the holiday shopping for every member of the family and then wrapped it all and managed to hide it from little sneaky elves. Mom, who is anxious to see them rip into the presents but kind of fears for the mess and set-up time of unboxing and getting them to operate. Mom, who loves Christmas but is already ready for routine.

I see you. Mom, who’s fuse is short from relational emotions that holidays stir. Mom, who is welcoming the escape but partially wishes it was alone. Mom, who wants to snuggle and be present but also retreat and have a solo cup of coffee and quiet shower.

I see you. Mom, who misses her hubby at night because the kiddos aren’t used to sleeping in new places so we have to separate. Mom, who is awake in the middle of the night with tootsies in her side, sweetly loving the constant need for their body to touch you but also knowing you won’t get any rest whatsoever. Mom, who is already thinking about nap time and hasn’t event seen the sunrise. I see you Mom. Who spends her time brushing their teeth and hair and feeding their bellies and then forgets to do the same for herself. Who scurries our the door with snacks and drinks and all the things but never got to finish her now cold coffee. Who listens to tunes and toddler banter happily until banter turns to bicker and you have to roll down the window to gather peace again.

I see you Mom.

Who thought postpartum was an emotional state for infancy but sometimes feels like these years are even harder. Who wants all the kisses and hugs but needs all the space too. Who wants to do all the art projects and holiday adventures but also just wants to lay in bed with popcorn and Christmas movies. see you Mom.

I applaud you. And I love you. I’m here for you. And I’m with you. When you cry. When you laugh. When you yell. When you apologize. When you wish. When you dream. When you take it back and sit in the moment. When you complain. When you cherish. I see you and I feel you. And in the end all that gets us through it is comfort in knowing we aren’t alone. God, thank you for the blessing of motherhood. Thank you for our sweet babies. Thank you for these fast memories. Thank you for the energy to keep waking up and doing it all over. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for knowing the good will of my heart, even when I don’t always show it like I want to. Thank you for loving me, even still. Help me to abundantly love and always remind my babies and my husband of their value and the joy they bring me – even when I’m exhausted.

1 Corinthians 13:12 For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known.

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