That Mother who had to be up early this morning.
I was there with you, stumbling out of bed.
That Mother who was doing chores, running errands or working on little to no sleep.
I was there with you, trying to organize the day and guzzling down the coffee necessary for the day.
That Mother in the waiting room, rubbing your temples, wondering how you were going to make it through the day.
I was there with you, rubbing my eyes and wondering if I could do it.
That Mother holding back the tears as you make more appointments for your son.
I was there with you, dialing and sniffing to avoid sobbing.
That Mother who was watching her daughter play.
I was there with you, wondering why they grow so fast.
That Mother who feels alone, even when she’s not.
I was there with you, helping you along.
That Mother who feels like her house is not her home.
I was there with you, feeling displaced.
That Mother that cries on the inside everyday.
I am there with you, tissues in hand.
That Mother who worries about her child’s future.
I am there with you, trying to see it.
That Mother that feels like it’s her fault.
I am there with you, basking in the blame.
That Mother that doesn’t think she can handle another day.
I am there with you, trying to find a way.
That Mother that can’t sleep at night due to worry, kids and everything else.
I am there with you, rubbing my feet together and pacing in the hall.
That Mother in the mirror that looks past herself.
I am here with you.
I am you.