“I decided to write this at the end of a long day of motherhood, so I could speak into you the words I needed for myself today. This is what came through for me:
Mama, you did great today.
I know it was a lot.
It was really loud and really messy.
You had to breathe through a lot of emotions.
You did well with most moments, but then it became too much and you yelled.
You said things that were loud and hurtful.
I know you felt bad the minute it slipped out, and you spent the rest of the day wishing you had more patience.
Yet, they were resilient and the atmosphere shifted quickly back into laughter and chaos.
I know how exhausted you were when you made those meals.
I know how frustrated you felt when they complained about what you made or didn’t finish their food.
I know how badly your nervous system was crying out for rest, and how every loud noise seemed to jolt your whole body.
I know you wanted to hide and eat a snack in peace.
Maybe you did.
Maybe today you snuck away and locked yourself in the bathroom.
The little footsteps that came running towards the locked door, the wails of ‘abandonment,’ and the little fingers sliding under the door trying to get to you.
I know it’s an unending battle between losing sleep to get some alone time and choosing rest so you have enough energy to get through the day, but then feeling neglected by yourself.
I know how touched-out you are by the end of the day.
I know how you watch them as they sleep and wish you had been more involved, more patient, more ‘fun.’
I know it was a lot.
And tonight, you’ll probably see at least one of them again in the night before the sun rises.
You’ll probably have to carry them back to bed, or maybe you’ll give in and let them sleep with you so you can both get some rest.
Either choice is fine, both are healthy and good.
But you know what, Mama?
You are their moon, their sun, and all their stars.
You are their love, their light, and their laughter.
You are their source, their peace, and their safety.
You are their best friend and their shepherd in one.
You are the hard things in life and the best things in life.
You’re teaching them to love, to forgive, and to adapt without even knowing it.
They’ll watch everything you do, but don’t let that scare you.
They’ll be able to sort through the good moments and the bad once they’re older–and they’ll be able to appreciate all the energy you’ve invested when they look back.
I know it feels really hard to do this day in and day out. The weeks bleed together and it feels like one really long season of sleepless exhaustion, overstimulation, and messy bits.
But somehow, while it seems so long while you’re walking through it, it will also be over so quickly.
The years will pass by faster each time, and they won’t need you as much.
Take lots of videos of the insignificant small moments on the random Tuesday’s and days at the park- those are the days you’ll miss the most.
Give yourself lots of grace, chocolate, and naps while you navigate it all.
Allow yourself to cry. It’s okay to show emotion in front of them. It’s healthy and will allow them to share their own emotions, as well.
Let them play in the dirt and the puddles.
Let them get messy with holes in their clothes and wind in their hair.
Read a book while they play, just let it flow.
It’s okay that today wasn’t perfect.
No day will ever be.
One day, you’ll look back and feel nothing but bliss.
You’re doing a great job, Mama.
You are perfect for them.
You are meant for them.
They are meant for you.
I’m really proud of you, and so are they.”
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Micki Morris. You can follow their journey on Instagram, Facebook, and their website. Do you have a similar experience? We’d like to hear your important journey. Submit your own story here. Be sure to subscribe to our free email newsletter for our best stories, and YouTube for our best videos.
Read more from Micki here:
Read more touching stories like this:
Do you know someone who could benefit from reading this? SHARE this story on Facebook with family and friends.