An Open Letter to Fellow Moms

We’ve never met!

It feels like, however, I’ve known you for years. Since the beginning of motherhood itself. From the never-ending days and nights that seem to follow each other like a carousel wheel. And in this mad cycle the only one you forget about is you.

I’m here with you, when the only place you can find to cry silently, without those little eyes watching you, is the cold and dark corner of the bathroom.

I’m here with you when the only one you can possibly find to blame, is yourself. For the things that have nothing to do with the kind of mother you are or how much time you spend with your little one.

I’m here with you in those long, endless nights that are spent wondering whether or not your crying infant feels lonely and abandoned, when the sleep coach told you to leave her alone. 

I’m here with you every day, every week that passes by without your little one crawling or talking, making your heart crumble. Is he OK? What about all the other children who are talking at his age? The fear pours into every inch of your body. 

I’m here with you when you ask a question that turns into a blitz of judgment and manifesto. When all you were asking for was an opinion and all you really needed was to be understood.

This is for you, who’s child never gets invited to the play dates. Because of her skin color or your modest look.

For you.

I can see you. I’m here with you