There is a lot to consider on Mother’s Day.
There are the moms we celebrate. There are also the moms we mourn, either because they’re no longer with us, or because they never were.
There are the women who aren’t mothers, but long to be; the women who are mothers, but on whom loss weighs heavy.
There are the children who scamper about happy homes and loving mamas; but also the children who sit alone, simply dreaming of a mama to hold.
And there are the children who are not yet here, on the outside, anyway. But they are here, inside of us. There, inside of her. Existing. Alive. Distinct. Growing human people.