Writers 
* A poem about motherhood *
I was a woman before I became a mother,
With dreams tucked beneath my skin,
A heart that danced to its own rhythm,
And a world I was still trying to win.
Then you arrived, my little wonder,
With your tiny fingers wrapped around mine,
And suddenly, the sky grew wider,
Yet the hours no longer felt like they were mine.
I became the keeper of midnight,
The voice that whispers, “You are safe.”
The arms that gather broken pieces,
The home where little hearts find their place.
Motherhood did not come wearing diamonds,
Nor did it promise me a gentle road.
It came with sleepless nights and silent worries,
And a love too heavy for words to hold.
Some days, I smile while my soul is weary,
Some nights, I cry where no one can see.
I wonder if my hands are doing enough,
If I am the mother you need me to be.
I have searched for answers in the darkness,
And prayed when I had nothing left to say.
I have carried fears I never speak of,
Yet risen to love you another day.
For motherhood is not always beautiful pictures,
Or laughter dancing through a sunlit room.
Sometimes, it is choosing hope at sunrise
After spending the night wrestling with gloom.
It is learning a language without words,
Finding meaning in a little hand.
Celebrating victories others may not notice,
And loving beyond what you understand.
It is watching your child become their own person,
While wishing you could shield them from pain.
It is letting go, a little at a time,
Though your heart begs to keep them the same.
And perhaps, when the years have softened,
When little footsteps no longer cross my floor,
I will miss the weight of you beside me,
And the tiny voice that always asked for more.
I will remember the mess, the madness,
The toys, the tears, the clothes untied.
And smile at the woman I became
With you growing gently by my side.
For before you called me Mother,
I never knew my heart could stretch this wide.
I never knew that love could frighten me,
Or make me feel so helpless and so alive.
I am a woman who still has dreams,
A soul that sometimes needs care,
A heart that breaks and heals in silence,
And a love that follows you everywhere.
If the world should ever ask you
What your mother gave to see you shine,
Tell them she gave you more than her arms—
She gave you pieces of her time.
And if one day you forget the little things,
The lullabies, the prayers, the nights I stayed,
Remember this, my precious child:
You were loved in a thousand ways.
For motherhood is not about being perfect,
Nor having every answer from the start.
It is a thousand ordinary sacrifices
Made extraordinary by the heart.
And though the world may give me many names,
Though life may change me as the seasons would,
Of all the things I ever hope to be,
Being your mother will always be my greatest good.
— A tribute to every mother who keeps loving, even on the days she forgets to love herself. ❤
