Mother

We aren’t our parents, just ourselves, imperfect trying to be better ofterner…………………………..

unfiltered from the heart


Crying babies held to breast in love,
Easy to care for physical needs.
Eat, sleep, change, hold and then just repeat.

As they grow, their needs start expanding,
Teaching, learning, much to discerning,
Mom feeling her own wounds more clearly.

Her faith in the unseen comes and goes,
Feeling, being, becoming open.
In healing childhood heart’s size growing.

~~~

Being a mother is hands down the most difficult role I have taken on. It was relatively easy for me to care for my children as babies. Meeting their physical needs meant less sleep, yet I really did not have to think about it.

As my children have aged and their need for play grows, I find it more and more challenging to keep myself from being triggered. It’s much easier for me to work and complete tasks than it is for me to sit on the floor and play. When the…

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