This is the face of 2am, the silent hour filled with screaming. The pleading, and the gratitude of the breath on your neck that gives you your own.
The face of desperation, opening your heart but closing a door, just to breathe, just for a moment.
The face of helplessness, the inner child who knows she’s responsible but still needs a hug. We all need to be reminded we’re doing our best.
The face of exhaustion, the forced smiles, the glazing over eyes, the hand that finds the remote. Just watch this for a little bit, reheats coffee.
The face of nostalgia, the simultaneous pull of looking forward and looking back. Holding on and letting go.
The face of adoration, the high pitched excitement that lies in the little things, as they teach us, to remember.
The face of defeat, the sleeve caught on the door handle, the tears in the car, the last straw. That mother who holds it all together, who just needs to be held by someone else.
The face of guilt, I don’t get you, what is going on with you, I love you but I don’t like you right now. I know this is hard for you, this is hard for me too.
The face of worry, of the things we wish we could undo and things not yet done. Like a homesick feeling that lives inside your head.
The face of pride, a galloping heart that is concurrently still, an overwhelming feeling of wanting to make the world a better place.
The face of empathy, the pain you feel as if it were yours. The only pain you’ve ever wanted to make your own if it meant protecting them.
There are so many faces to motherhood.
But through the tears, the struggles and the moments we break is that unbreakable love.
Because that’s what makes it worth it.
In the face of it all.