The mom of none is a superhero.
I’m talking about the one who’s a mama in the deepest depths of her soul, even though you don’t see little ones running at her feet.
Her heart may be shattered from losses. She may be desperately trying. She may be filling out the mountain of adoption paperwork. Maybe enough years have passed that she knows a child will never call her “Mama,” so she directs all that love somewhere else.
If you could only see what she goes through, you’d call her a hero, too.
The mom of one is a superhero.
She’s been thrown into a whole new world, with nowhere to land that feels soft. And despite the books and the doctors and all the well-meaning advice, she feels a little lost. Has she ever worried about anything (and everything) so much in her life? She can’t figure out how her heart jumped out of her body and so fiercely attached itself to this angel-baby. She. Will. Screw this up. She knows it.
She wants to trust her mama instincts, but she’s also drowning inside the roaring waves of deep and unexpected emotions. It physically hurts to feed her baby. She’s so tired she could cry. And other women question her choices often enough that she wonders if she can even trust herself to do what’s best for her baby. It’s more overwhelming than she ever could have imagined.
She could use a listening ear, a friend to hold the baby while she sleeps a few hours, some freezer meals, and someone to sit beside her and just agree that it’s pretty gosh dang hard. No suggestions on how to do it better. Just affirmations.
If you only knew how beautifully she’s doing — despite raging hormones and so little sleep — you’d call her a hero, too.
The mom of two is a superhero.
Whoa. This is a whole new ballgame. There’s so much to juggle with one little “helper” and one scrumptious baby, fresh out of the oven. Behavioral problems might come up. That precious, one-on-one bonding time between Mama and her firstborn is gone, and they both feel it. And oh my goodness, the TEARS. Mama’s tears and the kids’ tears, too. It seems like at least one of them is constantly crying. It’s never easy, never quiet. Getting two kids in and out of anything — the house, the car, the store, their coats — feels impossible. She wonders how she’ll ever “get her body back,” like people seem to think she should. She knows she’s neglecting her husband a little, and she misses him. But she’s just so tired.
She loves it. She does. But that doesn’t mean it’s not hard. All day, every day, it’s hard. She just needs to be reminded that she’s doing a phenomenal job. After all, if you heard the play-by-play of her day, you’d call her a hero, too.
The mom of three is a superhero.
Holy moly, life is wild. Was it yesterday or a thousand years ago that she was out with her girlfriends on a Friday night, living it up and loving life, retreating to the bathroom to wonder at what point of the night she transitioned from goddess to trainwreck?
She’s still living it up in a lot of ways. She’s still loving life. She just mostly feels like the trainwreck now. Has she washed her hair this week? Hmmm. She has more kids than hands. That makes things harder, for sure. One kid is definitely desperate for attention, seeking it in all the worst ways. Her house is a flippin’ disaster. One person or another is always barking questions or suggestions at her, like she doesn’t know what she’s doing as a mother. Sigh.
But if you only knew that she has to reheat her coffee 37 times before she remembers to drink it (cold)…if you only knew how much of herself she pours into her family…if you only knew how hard she’s trying…you’d call her a hero, too.
And, oh, the mom of four or more is a serious superhero.
Yes, she knows her hands are full. And yes, she knows what causes it.
You should see what else is full, though. Her heart, for one thing. Her schedule. Man, that thing is packed. It’s a wonder she gets anything done. But she does. She’s constantly moving. She’s forever exhausted. Can’t they all just be asleep at the same time? EVER?
At this point, she has some real helpers, and that makes such a difference. She’s thankful. But she’s also a little bit sad. The oldest ones are growing up. They’ve lost the “little.” They’re still right there with her, but she misses them so much. They’ll be off to see the world without her soon. And, inevitably, the others will quickly follow.
She hopes she and her husband will still have things to talk about. She’s missed making him her priority. She’s tried really hard.
Tell her how much you admire her. Not because her hands are full, but because her heart is massive and her efforts are tireless and her life is a testament to those things.
After all, if you only understood that she basically works 140 hours/week, you’d call her a hero, too.
All moms are superheroes. They dedicate their lives to other people. They give away their hearts and watch them walk around outside their bodies, with very little control over what happens to them. They do more than anyone will ever know, and they love harder than they ever thought possible.
They give of themselves all day, every day, through all the ups and downs of a beautiful life. And they always will.
That’s just what heroes do.
And all mamas are heroes to the most precious people of all.