What if I told you that I let her cry so I could write this.
What if I told you it wasn’t my first time.
What if I told you, I found failure in my nurturing, because I couldn't withstand the crying.
The quickening of my penmanship is the quickening of my heart.
It's also the volume of her cry.
And I wonder, which of these things will touch her,
or hit her,
because something will,
at some point,
into thinking I'm a bad mother.
And I write this because society needs to hear,
and I need to hear,
that there is no perfect mother.
At some point, somewhere,
we need to stop blaming the Mothers.
we are, our Mothers.