A worried mom

I worried for a long time that I would not be a good mother.
To a daughter, to a son, I just wouldn't be good at this.
Because I live in fear.
And at every turn, I am worried.
Worried that I am making the wrong decision.
Worried that I am handling a situation the wrong way.
Worried that I am walking you through the situation the wrong way.
Worried that I will, that I have, let you down.
Worried that you will wish for something different.
Worried that you will see how awkward I can be in my own skin.
Worried that you will figure out how scared and worried I am.
Worried that I have so few answers and so many more questions.
Worried that I will not teach you all you can do.
Worried that I will not show you respect, love, infinite love.
Worried that I am not giving you enough of my time.
Worried I am not giving enough of myself.
Worried that I am not letting you go enough, letting you realize how much you are capable of,
without us, without me, all on your own.
Worried that you won't want to see me when you're grown.
Worried that you will care too much about your body, or how you look.
Worried that you will not realize how strong you are.
Worried that I won't cement the definition of beauty before the world gets to you.
Worried that you will never learn appreciation.
Worried about cliques and boys and girls that will teach you about leaving people out.
Worried that you are followers and forget how smart you are and how you can and should stand and rise.
Worried that you will forever care what others think, and forget to think for yourself.
Worried that we all yell too much and that it is killing your soul.
Worried that we are loving too much or too little, all at the same time.
Worried that I am failing.

Dear worried, caring, loving, mom...
take a long deep breathe.
And then take a moment and realize where you stand.

Here is where we stand:
We are trying.
All of us, everyday, we are trying.
We are forgiving.
Everyday, every single day, someone is outrageously mad and we apologize and we forgive.
We are good people.
And good people raise good people.
We are blemished.
We are perfectly imperfect us.
We are your foundation.
We will always be your rock, your safe, where you can turn to for solace and love and quiet.
We are gorgeous.
In all of the right places and ways, we are gorgeous.
To hell with the wrong ones because our hearts, our smiles and our souls...they shine.
We define beauty and strength.
Not with our looks, not with mom's curls or dad's amazing blue eyes, but with what we can do, with how much we keep growing.
We are humor.
Because we finally realized it is the only way to get through this life, laugh at it all, it is too hard otherwise.
We are love.
In how we share, in our time, in our words, in our actions, in our sense of family and community.
We are love.

And so from this worried mom to the one reading this...
stop the worrying.
It will all work out.
They will all figure it out.
They will all grow up.
They will all stand on their own.
They will all learn how to write their name.
They all learn in the way that works for them.
They all figure out their lives, their goals.
They all define their family.
They will all be caring.
They will find love, in all of the right places because you showed them what that looks like.
Let me please remind you worried tired mom, all they need, all they will ever need, are your loving arms.

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