To the Mom with a Hundred Cloaks

To the mom with a hundred cloaks, I see you.

I see you on call, without exception.

I see you as you are called to the bathroom again, to wipe another butt, to wash another pair of hands.

I see you playing.  When driving, cooking, thinking, resting, eating, pooping.  Always engaged.

I see you in your nurse's uniform.  Your doctor's outfit.  Security chief.  Police officer.  Negotiator.  Chef.


I see you fighting.  Fighting exhaustion, doubt, toddler whims and outdated social norms.

I see you balancing.  Balancing the needs of all your babies.  Grown and growing.  Balancing the needs of your partner, friends, work, home...self.

I see you creating.  Growing life, birthing life, nurturing life...with your own flesh and blood.

I see you growing.  In body, as new life arrives...and in heart, with each new beat, beat, beat.

I see you stretching.  On yoga mats and between commitments; from your limbs, to your patience, to the very skin that houses your babies.

I see you fading.  Between night feeds and playdates, your sense of self dimming.

And still, I see you shining.   Vibrant and strong, a real-life superhero to those little people who follow you around like ducklings behind their mother...

I see you.  I notice your cloaks.  And they are all magnificent.

Have you read:

• 3 Simple Minutes
• My Baby Stole My Body (And She Can Keep It)
• #StopCensoringMotherhood

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