This Parenting Poem Took My Breath Away

I had to come back to this post today. I’m 29, and recently had a health crisis that put me in the hospital for five days. My mom dropped everything to come be with me, and I don’t think I could’ve gotten through it without her. Even though I’m an adult now, I’m still under her raincoat. *tear*

The book “Raising Your Spirited Child” was like therapy for me when going through a (lengthy) rough patch with my intense, sensitive young kid! Not your typical parenting book.

this is so beautiful and made me cry! i have a four and a half month old daughter, and before she was born, i asked friends to send me poems about parenting and motherhood. i’m going to add this to the collection. thank you!

This might need a warning! Kidding but I wasn’t prepared for all the tears. Super lovely – shared with my mom. ?

I SO needed this today! I have a four month old (my first) who is a total joy, healthy and happy and easy as far as it goes, but we’ve been dealing with a feeding aversion and reverse cycling and for the last month I’ve felt at my wits’ end, my body’s end, and just surviving from day to day, feeling it’s all some kind of cruel ironic punishment – so how much did you want to be a mother again?! And wishing my own mother lived close by instead of thousands of miles away and in my phone. Anyway, this reminded me that some day my own daughter will think of me the way I think of my mum, like a raincoat keeping as much of the torrents and the storms away from me when I needed it most, and all the lines on her face and the deep muscles in her arms were all to keep me safe and loved, and then hopefully we’ll be on an even footing. And even if we’re not, hopefully this will keep me going for another day or two! Sending out lots of love to all the other parents struggling today and every day to be their best selves for their children when they’re barely keeping it together for themselves <3

So beautiful. And heartbreaking. Yes, absolutely we give the raincoat and do the drives and all of the other myriad things that make up mothering. I’m sure my mother did them for me, too…I think. Posts like this hit me hard as I walk through loving my own precious girls, and navigating how to do that while experiencing judgement and separation from my own mother. It seems that most mothers do love their children in these selfless ways. But what happens as the children (and the mothers) grow older? Is there a switch that flips, and the child suddenly has to earn the giving, the love? What happens to cause the mother to decide that her child is too much to deal with, so the listening and loving won’t happen anymore? Will I do that to my daughters? (please, God, no).

like so many sentiments shared here in the comments, perfect timing for this post.
my husband lost his job almost two years ago and i have been supporting our family since then – not just financially but emotionally. my heart aches for my husband and i’ve done my best to hold him up. i try my best to make everything seem “normal” for our four year old. i try my best to care for our infant (and yes, i was pregnant when this all went down. we had some complications and i feel it was from the stress) so she enjoys the same positive environment her brother had as a baby. i try my best to be good at my job even though i’ve been carrying this weight – in addition to be exhausted as i adjust to being a mom of two. i so wish someone would give me a rain coat, i’m barely above the water.

I’d love to see parenting posts about adoption, from birth parents, adoptive parents, and adoptees.

I love this Motherhood series and would also love to hear more on all sorts of mother figures. I’m a stepmom, which is also really hard. The same work and none of the credit. I’m constantly questioning if I’m doing the right thing (I have no kids of my own) while fearing that these two little girls who I have grown to love deeply will never love me. I’m also adopted and understand that giving birth to someone does not make you a mom. Motherhood is an act, not a right. Again, would love to read articles and interviews with all different types of families, moms, dads, stepmoms, stepdads, grandparents, etc.

Being a mom is a tough job, and it doesn’t end when your children grow up and leave home. Our oldest had growth hormone deficiency and I had to give her a shot every night. She was just 9 and eventually she was able to give herself her own shots. She was able to stop them at age 15. Giving her the shot was the hardest thing I ever did. Because growth hormone is a protein substance, it would be digested if it were a pill, so shots were the only option.

This poem is beautiful. I’m a new mom to 3 month old baby boy, my first. He was born with complications from my autoimmune blood disorder. Most days I have moments where I don’t think about what’s going on within his little body. And then there is today: his weekly lab draw. The needle poke in his tiny chubby arm, bruises from the tourniquet, big crocodile tears and his sweet and sad newborn cry. The nurses and lab techs always allow me to cuddle and snuggle and nurse him in a private room afterwards. That’s when my heart gets heavy. So many emotions.

The poetry lovers commenting here may already know the wonderful poems of Maggie Smith, who tells the truth about mothering in the modern world in a way that sometimes hurts but also feels healing. If you haven’t read her yet, I hope you will! Start with “Good Bones,” and enjoy her book of the same title. xoxo

Just the encouragement I needed today. I admire all you writers who can so beautifully put these feelings into words! It was a lovely way to put into words what I’m trying to do as I shield my bright-eyed giggly little two year old while going down a path towards divorce this year.

My middle son is 7 and that’s about the time I, a middle child, have clear memories of family life. I remember playing Nintendo for hours in the basement with my brother. There were times we’d find my mom, asleep in the closet, apparently hiding from us. I realize now my parents were relieved to do what they wanted or needed during that time. Not for a moment did I ever consider what my parents needed or felt as we widdled away time and there’s some relief in that as I now parent – the kids just live their lives, mostly oblivious that I’m trying to live mine too.

Needed this today. In a tough parenting phase with my 3-year-old, who’s struggling with her transition into big sisterhood, and 9-month-old who is suddenly up at all hours is the night. The days are long. The nights are long. There’s no relief but I’m giving it all I’ve got, or trying to.

I don’t have children but I can see this from the reverse – taking my elderly mother back and forth to doctor, doctor, doctor and yet another doctor – endlessly. I look back at the last years of my mother’s life – difficult years, yes – and SO many doctors, but also so much time together. waiting, talking, laughing – whatever i could do to make it easier. some of the best times shared. I cherish them all.

“Don’t you just want to burst into tears? So beautiful.”

yes. absolutely.

YES. What’s so crazy about motherhood (at least for me, as someone who is not naturally very nurturing) is how you don’t even think about taking off your raincoat––a storm comes; suddenly your child is wearing your raincoat and you are getting wet. There wasn’t a decision made, just an impulse of love and maternal protection.