Dear Mom,
I’ve observed you in various settings. I’ve seen you raising your voice at your children in public, I’ve noticed you distracted while they play, or perhaps unkempt in yesterday’s pajamas during preschool drop-off. I’ve witnessed you negotiating with your kids, offering treats, and at times, even issuing threats. I’ve noticed you in heated exchanges with partners, family, or even an officer at the crosswalk.
I’ve seen you navigating the chaos of parenthood, sometimes getting dirty, and occasionally expressing your frustration aloud when you bump a knee. I’ve seen you share a milkshake with an exuberant four-year-old, and yes, I’ve seen you wipe your child’s nose with your hand, only to leave a smudge on your jeans. I’ve watched you carry your toddler, flopped over your arm, while chasing after a runaway ball.
I’ve also seen you grit your teeth as your child protests against practicing piano, soccer, or any other activity you’ve deemed necessary. I’ve seen you take a deep breath after discovering a gallon of milk spilled in your trunk. I’ve seen you weep into the sink while scrubbing crayon marks off your favorite purse. I’ve seen you pacing outside, lost in thought.
I’ve observed you in hospital waiting rooms and at pharmacy counters, often looking exhausted and anxious. In fact, I see you often, almost daily.
I cannot know your unique journey into motherhood. Whether you always dreamed of having children, or if it was an unexpected turn in life, I can only guess at your expectations. Perhaps you felt overwhelmed in those first days, uncertain you’d ever experience what you envisioned as “motherly love.” I’m unaware of your struggles with infertility, pregnancy loss, or difficult births. I don’t know if you carried your child within you or welcomed them into your family through other means.
But I understand much about you.
I know you haven’t received everything you desired. I know you’ve gained unexpected joys that you never anticipated. I know you often doubt your abilities, believing you could improve. Yet, I assure you, you are doing better than you perceive.
When you look at your child or children, you see reflections of yourself. You may also feel like a stranger to them, perplexed by how the small joys of childhood that mattered to you seem trivial to them.
I know there are moments when you feel like throwing a lamp at your teenager. I understand the temptation to toss your three-year-old out the window during a tantrum.
Some nights, after the house has quieted down, you may curl up in bed and cry. Other nights, you hold back tears, weighed down by fatigue and unmet expectations. Some days are so challenging that all you want is for them to end. Yet, when bedtime arrives, your children embrace you, showering you with love, leaving you wishing the day could stretch on forever.
But inevitably, each day concludes, ushering in fresh challenges. Illness, heartbreak, creative projects, new friendships, and disagreements await you. And yet, each day, you rise to the occasion.
You handle everything, because that is your role. Whether it’s heading to work, preparing meals, tending to the garden, or strapping the baby on your back to vacuum, you manage it all.
You pause whatever you’re doing to mediate disputes over who gets to use a specific marker, to soothe a scraped knee, or to discuss the color of lipstick that Pinocchio’s mother wears.
You share tickle fights in blanket forts and have an impressive repertoire of picture books memorized. I’ve heard how you dance freely with your children when it’s just the two of you. You laugh and embrace the silly moments, singing goofy songs about vegetables.
I know that sometimes, even an hour past bedtime, you drop everything to trim a fingernail that your three-year-old insists is the cause of her sleeplessness. You momentarily abandon the dishes to join in a tea party. I know you’ve fed your kids peanut butter and jelly for days when you were unwell. I know you sneak bites of leftover crusts over the sink while your kids enjoy their shows.
You never anticipated much of this. You likely didn’t foresee the depth of love you’d feel or the struggles with your post-pregnancy body, or even the exhaustion that comes with motherhood.
You thought you understood how it would be. You may have hired a nanny or quit your job to assemble baby furniture. You might feel conflicted, grappling with the idea that nothing has changed while also reflecting on the choices that led you here.
You are not a perfect mom. No matter your efforts or intentions, perfection will always elude you.
This realization may haunt you, or perhaps you’ve found peace with it. Regardless, it’s important to understand that no matter how much you do, there is always more to tackle. Conversely, even on days when you feel you’ve accomplished little, your children are still enveloped in love. They look at you with adoration, convinced that you possess the magic to mend anything.
There’s a wise saying: “There is one perfect child in the world, and every mother has that child.” The reality is, no parent is perfect. Your children will inevitably aspire to be different from you, vowing to avoid the mistakes they believe you’ve made.
Yet, despite your imperfections, you are better than you realize.
Someday, as your children dash around, someone will approach you and compliment your beautiful family. You may find yourself at the park, watching your kids covered in mud, while a pregnant woman gazes at you with a nostalgic smile.
No matter your doubts, remember this: you are not perfect. And that’s perfectly fine. Your child is not perfect either. This shared imperfection means that no one else can care for them better than you, equipped with your unique understanding and experience.
Since no mother is flawless, it’s likely that you are one of many who hold the title of Best Mom in the World.
Congratulations, Best Mom in the World. You’re not perfect. You’re simply as good as anyone can be.
With love,
Your Peer
For further insights on home insemination and parenting, you may find this resource helpful. Additionally, check out BabyMaker for authoritative information on at-home insemination kits, and March of Dimes for valuable resources on pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary
This heartfelt letter speaks to mothers, acknowledging their struggles and triumphs. It emphasizes the unique journey of motherhood, the imperfections we all face, and the enduring love that defines the parent-child relationship.