01/28/2024
Mama, you aren’t invisible.
At 5am when you’re up for the day when you were up and down all night.
When the chores feel endless, and your clothes have never felt so lived in.
While they’re sick and you’re holding them, wishing you could take their pain away.
You aren’t invisible.
When you’re piling on jackets or covering them in sunscreen.
When the trip from the house to the car feels like the outing.
When you’re juggling who you were, who you are, who you’re becoming.
You aren’t invisible.
When you’re preparing bottles or holding them at your chest. Scraping off more unwanted food or having it for lunch.
When you feel as if you haven’t been able to get anything done or feeling the pressure to be the illusion of a perfect mother.
When you’re holding your breath because every thought, every action has them in its centre.
You aren’t invisible.
When you can’t remember the last time you held an adult conversation, or even if you know how to anymore.
When you’re packing away piles of toys, or tiny clothes, or feel like you’ve been singing nursery rhymes for the past few hours.
When your ears are ringing from the crying and even though you could never be more thankful, some days feel thankless.
You aren’t invisible.
When the weight of being someone’s everything is as heavy as it is light.
The frazzled mother in the store who somehow manages to scoop them up in tears even though her arms are full.
The one that wears her heart on her sleeve and their breath on her chest in the middle of the night.
One day things will change.
They’ll be able to tell you what’s wrong instead of crying.
They’ll stop needing to be held all the time.
They’ll be able to say, “I Love You”.
And you’ll realise they’ve been telling you since the day you met.
A mother’s love is not invisible,
It doesn’t boast or take, it only offers.
Everything you do, they see.
And everything you do, is seen through them.
Mama, you are not invisible.
I hope you realise just how seen you are.
Words: ‘My After All’
📚
