Dear Mothers Who Never Became Mothers

Dear mothers who never became mothers,

Who felt the toes growing and the fingers sprouting and were robbed of the experience by nature or by their bodies or by some unseen unknowable contract of their souls.

Hate not, resent not your body.

Doubt not your ability to love and nurture and teach.

Forgive—forgive your body, your partner, the process and whatever your god is.

Take this not out by punishing yourself and others.

We are born as women with the hearts of lions to protect and guide ourselves, our young and this planet.

If your belly grew but the life you birthed was still—make this not about you.

Do not hurt yourself—love yourself.

Step into and reflect why you may on some level, before you were even born asked for this experience.

If you were to believe that between each life that we shoot into the sky and set contracts for the great joys and sorrows we may have in our lives—and on some level understand that before you were born into this life with eyes with desires with a heart that beats—that you choose this.

And you may swear—choose this? No, one would never choose to grow a being and lose that being — you are stark mad.

But what if I wasn’t?

What if this was written long before and that this is a walk you are walking.

Could you soften, surrender, love the unlovable, understand the unfathomable.

And instead of breaking your heart with the grief of the babe you do not hold to your breast today, could you instead forgive the experience.

Could you, deep soul, reach deeper then you understand and understand that perhaps this soul wrenching thing is an experience that we all add to our library in one life or another?

Could you, sweet soul, stare into the eyes of life today and instead of grieve give thanks for all the life that is and love that which torments us and that which gives us great pleasure and see that if we understand there is no tormenting, or pleasure—that is all just is.

And in that ‘isness’ could you today not be a victim of that which is or isn’t but that which you are, and we all are, with or without?

You never lost a thing—for we are all mothers of each other and this planet and today I celebrate you, too.