Love to all mothers, to those of us with hearts brimming over and those with hearts tattered and battered and torn. To those with hearts broken by yearning and sick with unrealised dreams. Love to those grieving, to those mothers who can’t or won’t use the word mother, who fall through the holes of our language into a silence, those who love dead unborn children, who mourn children lost, who love children they have no claim of flesh and bone and law to but love them anyway. Love to all women who love and give life to and grow something more than themselves.
Love to all children, to those of us with hearts brimming over and those with hearts tattered and battered and torn. To those with hearts broken by yearning and sick with unrealised dreams. Love to those grieving, to those children who can’t or won’t use the term mother for a woman who once bore them but did not love them well, who fall through the holes of our understanding into a silence, those who love dead mothers, who mourn mothers lost, who love women they have no claim of flesh and bone and law to but love them anyway. Love to all children and once children who love and are brought alive by and grow because of or in spite of a mother.
(thanks to Ellie Hodges thoughtful facebook post for the image)
Sarah K Reece 
yes, I was aware of the connotation when I wrote it – perhaps wanted some light relief? but also think – as Life is emerging, in different ways for my son and me, and for my parents – there is perhaps not so much difference after all…
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Certainly gives you a different perspective when you can see it from both sides. Ah, sorry, the light relief didn’t come across in text – wasn’t sure what tone you were using! 😛
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a comment that takes my own breath away as I am thinking of making it: I can never think of my mother without being glad that I left at age 21 and never went back.
I can never think of my being a mother without thanking Life for the grace and survival received for my son, including to send him on his way to live with/be adopted by his dad. – Is that a case of what in the Engoish say is caled ‘same difference’?
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Same difference feels flippant when put alongside those thoughts. I can understand why they take your breath away xx
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