Vulnerable Motherhood: "I Wasn't Made for This"
My thoughts from one day in April, 2021. As I sat down to write, for the first time in years I felt as though what I was feeling in the deepest parts of my soul came spilling out of me. 

This one is for my fellow mamas who just can’t help but feel like something is askew. 
- - - - - 
Big beautiful houses with toys and laundry, and dishes all piling up clamoring for our attention. 
The constant bombardment of media shouting and shaming
They don’t know us or our kids
But apparently they know how we should raise them

They point out where we’re falling short
And all the areas were lacking.
Oh and let’s throw in a pandemic,
Months of isolation,
And more roles and responsibilities we never asked for.

Are we equipped? Forget it,
This is just another one of those things we’re expected to collect ourselves and just do it.
But I can’t. It’s too much. 
How can anyone expect this?

But instead of taking responsibility 
Society shouts: Medicate,
But I’m screaming inside,
I WASN’T MADE FOR THIS!! 

All on our own,
It’s so hard to find a “tribe” as they call it, but I have a sneaking suspicion we desperately need it.
Instead of community and linked arms and wide open spaces.

Kids were created to explore,
To spend hours outdoors,
But we’ve fallen prey to the lie that
Happiness comes from White picket fences.

Kids should be able to roam free,
Giving mamas ample chance to breath,
The watching eyes of trusted neighbors, 
Taking equal responsibility.

But we live with fear,
Our eyes leaving them for just a second,
And you can’t blame us,
This world we live is the opitimy of depravity. 

Here we are, carryin such a heavy weight, our bodies crumbling beneath it,
on our own and feeling so alone,
Silently drowning,
In the noise and the fear and the pressure we were never created to bear.

So when you break down crying, heaving because you can’t catch a breath,
Give yourself Grace,
Mama, You weren’t made for this.

And so we eagerly await our day of redemption,
When all is made New,
And Motherhood is as it was intended.

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