So often as mothers we carry the weight.
We carry the weight of the hope in our hearts for the babies that haven’t yet come.
We carry the weight of the excitement on the mornings we take that first test that’ll tell us if we’ll be mamas or not.
We carry the weight of our babies as they grow and grow until it’s time to enter the world.
We carry the weight of the burden when sometimes our babies don’t grow or come as planned.
We carry the weight of our the needs of our children because if we didn’t then who else would?
We carry the weight of our spouses when sometimes they need us to carry more than our fair share but know they’d do the same for us too.
We carry the weight of the friendships that have fizzled out because of the weight that motherhood sometimes brings.
We carry the weight of careers that change with the needs of our families.
We carry the weight of the hopes and dreams we have for our children and for ourselves too.
We carry the weight of the ghosts of our former selves that seemed to have gotten lost as we’ve had to grow up and be the adult.
We carry the weight of our aging parents and sometimes having to be there for them instead of them for us.
We carry the weight. We do it because eons ago it was decided there’d be no being stronger than a mother to handle all of the things that are thrown at us. We were built to carry the weight—literally. We do it because we are strong enough and there is no better person to do it.