To the woman who never claimed to be a teacher and is already failing—I see you.

To the woman who still waits to hold her grandchild—I see you.

To the woman whose anxiety was already out of control—I see you.

To the woman who misses happy hour with her best friend—I see you.

To the woman who has lost her baby, but no one is able to come celebrate her life—I see you.

To the woman who holds her WIC vouchers while staring at empty shelves—I see you.

To the woman who feels desperately lonely in the middle of a noisy house—I see you.

To the woman who doesn’t know how to cook, but now has no choice—I see you.

To the woman who feels weary while everyone else is championing silver linings—I see you.

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To the woman turning to screen time, again—I see you.

To the woman canceling her babymoon—I see you.

To the woman staring at her fridge, certain that she cannot cook another meal—I see you.

To the woman losing out on her graduation—I see you.

To the woman scared to leave her house—I see you.

To the woman stocking the shelves while everyone else is going crazy—I see you.

To the woman who lost her job—I see you.

To the woman who said goodbye to her dream vacation—I see you.

To the woman untouched by anyone except a nurse—I see you.

To the woman with the lists and the schedules and the meal prep—I see you.

To the woman who has lost her chance for a championship ring—I see you.

To the woman headed back to the hospital to work another 12-hour shift—I see you.

To the woman holding a newborn baby, wondering when anyone will meet them—I see you.

To the woman questioning the perfection on social media while her own home feels desperately suffocating—I see you.

To the woman holding her wedding dress, canceling vendors and venues—I see you.

To the women closing the doors to her small business—I see you.

To the woman who lost her precious mama, but the funeral home is empty—I see you.

To the woman canceling her kid’s birthday parties and dedications—I see you.

To the woman desperate for an hour to yourself—I see you.

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To the woman unsure how to handle so much time with the people she’s supposed to love most—I see you.

To the woman wondering if God is actually near—I see you.

To the woman who already feels her hope unraveling—I see you.

To the woman choosing joy, because anything else will leave her lost—I see you.

To the woman who is certain that this is not the way it is supposed to be—I see you.

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Did you know that? That someone sees you? That even though right now there are millions of us women, millions of stories—your story, your joys, your sorrows—where you are right now, all of it matters? It’d be so very easy to feel so lost right now. I can almost guarantee that you will, at one point or another, as each of us weathers this storm.

But you need to know this. All of us, we need to know this: whatever your pains, whatever your losses, whatever your sadness, big or small—all of them matter. And you are seen.

Lo Mansfield

Lo is a labor RN who left her patients for her own babies when her first daughter was born and her own mama died. She loves her baby girls and she loved her patients --> right now, she's living in the truth that she can't do both and that is 100% okay. She lives in Denver with her husband and two daughters, writing, mom-ing, grieving, running, and (maybe) figuring it out. You can follow her mama heart musings at The Mama Harbor and at her Instagram