We are …
The invisible one whose sacrifices often go unnoticed.
Our sleep. Our bodies. Our time. Our sanity. Our identity.
The inconspicuous one, giving it her all even though most days her all doesn’t feel enough.
With a bruised spirit, she gets up time and time again in the name of them.
The fearful one who questions her worth, her enoughness, her ability to Mother.
Sometimes she feels as if she is fading away from the pages of her own book.
But that’s only a piece.
We are also …
The fearless one who moves downward and deeper to break generational chains and heal ancestral wounds.
The path is ground-shaking and often isolating, but she holds on with the most tenacious grip.
And while Motherhood has completely undone her, she has rebuilt herself from the sticks and stones more whole than she could have ever imagined.
Less conditioned. More authentic.
She had to break to rebuild.
Many days are thankless. Some days she wants to cry. Other days, she does.
But as much as it started for them, she now also does it for her.
And to those children to whom she gives herself day in and day out, she whispers, Thank you.
Thank you, little ones, for showing me to myself and gifting me with more love than my heart has ever known.
Because of you, I love myself more too.
Yes, we are the ones who sometimes feel invisible.
But you could never be.
To them. To the world. In the divinity that you are.
You simply matter.
• • •
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