Dear Mama,

 Dear Mama, 

I see you.  

I see you sitting in the shower under the water, crying with your hand over your mouth so that your kids

can’t hear you. 

I see you laying in bed at night, jerking out of sleep because someone snuck into your bed and had an accident all over your clean sheets and now you’ve got to take another shower and give them a bath at 2 am and you’re trying not to lose it. 

I see you working twice as hard because you’re a single mom.

I see you feeling like a single mom because your partner works so much. 

I see you having to always be the one who calls out of work because the kids are sick, because no one else does. 

I see you waiting until everyone goes to sleep and just barely getting started cleaning because that’s the only time you can get anything done. 

I see you cooking dinner after a long day’s work and watching your kids snarl their nose up because no one wants to eat that.  

I see you on the verge of an anxiety attack because your day is just too long, too packed. 

I see you suffering in silence because your kids can’t see you like that.  

I see you rocking yourself and telling yourself you’re okay and you’re safe to get you through an anxiety attack you feel like will never pass. 

I see you suffering through the loss of a family member and being strong through the process because the rest of your family needs you. 

I see you never taking sick days because you just don’t get to. 

I see you hope every month that the test is positive. 

I see you hoping that it’s not. 

I see you, tears streaming, as you lose your child you had so rapidly come to love.  

I see you suffering through the process of trying to get yourself through that loss and carrying your partner through it.  

I see you unable to get out of bed. 

I see you feeling guilty because you’re afraid that you’re going to love your rainbow baby in a different way because you’ve lost so many babies. 

I see you feeling like it will never happen for you, you’ll never be a mother to a child you can hold and watch grow.

I see you muddling through losing a child while watching your rainbow baby grow. 

I see you loving on your child, even when you don’t know how you could possibly love yourself.  

I see you dressing up and doing your hair, trying to go out and have fun and not let anyone know that you are so depressed you’re surprised you are out of bed. 

I see you sliding into your pajamas at 6 o’clock and barely having the brain space to check your kid’s notebook from school. 

I see you desperately trying to keep everything together, feeling like the end of your rope is fraying. 

I see you doing your absolute, level best.  

I see you.  I see you and I understand.  

You are magnificent.  You are amazing.  You astound me.  Your children are enthralled by you.  There is nothing you cannot accomplish.  You are allowed to feel all of your feelings, take all the time you need, and keep being your incredible self.  You are enough.