An Open Letter to My Mom Friend on Mother’s Day

pregnant belly beside baby cribGet Pregnant Fast

Dear Friend,

I see you.

Today is Mother’s Day, and perhaps someone is preparing a lovely breakfast for you. You might even receive it in bed, allowing you to savor the moment while still cozied up under the covers. There could be flowers or a piece of jewelry waiting for you, and undoubtedly, some homemade cards crafted from construction paper and macaroni are waiting downstairs. While all of these gestures are wonderful, they may not fulfill the deeper yearning within you at the end of this special day.

What you truly crave is for someone to recognize your struggles, to acknowledge how tough this journey can be. You, the resilient matriarch, are longing for someone to step in and make everything feel a little easier, even if just for today.

I see you. If no one else does, know that I do. I can sense that you’ve felt overlooked lately.

As women, we are often conditioned to appear as though we have everything under control, handling our responsibilities with little to no complaint. Meanwhile, our partners frequently assume that what they see is all there is, leading to inevitable misunderstandings, no matter how hard we try to maintain realistic expectations in our relationships. While motherhood is a blessing, there’s a burden in knowing that your partner may never fully grasp the complexities of being a mom.

Yes, motherhood is a gift—a mantra we are expected to repeat. Yet, there are days when you might wish you could return that gift, even if it means the impossible task of cramming a toddler back where they came from.

Perhaps this week, it’s your partner causing the stress. You’re utterly exhausted, and all you want is a moment of peace. So much so that, without even meaning to, you fall asleep during a rare day when your partner is home too. Instead of understanding your need for rest, they feel annoyed about having to take on the responsibilities alone on their “day off.”

I see the unfairness in your situation. They receive praise for attending a karate class while you’re criticized for quietly longing for a moment of quietness and a cold drink after enduring marathon hours of caring for sick little ones amidst endless laundry. But I notice your worry, your willingness to welcome your feverish child into your bed, fully aware that it means yet another set of sheets to wash. And I see how you adjust your space to avoid disturbing your partner’s sleep.

Maybe it’s your parents causing you grief. Perhaps your mother persistently questions your choices, or your father remains distant from both you and your child. I see your apprehension, but remember, you are not defined by them. You are more than that. You’re better.

There are moments when the urge to lash out almost overwhelms you. The anger courses through your veins, but you resist. You’ve never acted on that impulse, and you never will. Though you may fear it, I see the calmness you nurture within yourself to stay grounded.

It’s perfectly fine to dislike aspects of this motherhood experience. It’s even acceptable to feel resentment towards your child sometimes. Love and hate can coexist, as you learned from your own experiences with your mother. But you’re using that knowledge to empower your child. When she can pause in a moment of rage to declare, “Mom, I love you so much, but right now I’m really mad at you,” you’re teaching her resilience.

I see you, hunched under the weight of raising a kind and brave individual. But remember, you will make mistakes—many of them. Your child will observe those errors, so don’t hide them. Use them as teachable moments. Show her how to learn and grow from her own missteps.

You’re currently making a mistake—one that many of us do. You’re being too hard on yourself. You may not see it because you’re blinded by fatigue, frustration, and the impact of your own upbringing. But I can see it clearly: you and your child share a bond that no one else can replicate. You, dear friend, are her truth.

I notice how you light up with pride when you say, “My kid is amazing.” She is, and deep down, you know you played a significant role in shaping that greatness. I see you reflected in her smile, in her gentle nature as she picks up the Legos or runs to find a Band-Aid for a minor cut. I see you in her moments of joy as she completes a puzzle.

I see your struggle, your determination, and your unwavering commitment to raising a strong and forgiving child, even when it leaves little for yourself. And I want you to know: you are doing exceptionally well. You are meeting not just your own standards but those of your child too.

So, my dear friend, on this Mother’s Day, my wish for you is simple: may you find the clarity to see yourself as I see you—enough. And may you drift off into a peaceful sleep, comforted by that truth.

If you’re looking for ways to expand your family, consider checking out resources like this excellent guide on artificial insemination, or explore this at-home insemination kit. You can also gain insights from this informative article on the subject.

Summary

In this heartfelt letter, a friend reaches out to a struggling mom on Mother’s Day, acknowledging the often unseen challenges of motherhood. The letter emphasizes the importance of recognizing one’s efforts and the deep bond between mother and child. It encourages self-acceptance and reminds the mom that she is enough, urging her to find peace in her journey.