There was an event for young mothers last week. I went, even though I hardly qualify. I guess the organizer wanted a few oldies. For balance. Anyway the topic was postpartum depression, and that alone was excuse enough for some women to stay home. Yet it seems they talked to each other beforehand, or at least sent texts about whether or not they intended to step through he door.

"I will go if you do.'

"Well, I may go but I won't talk!"

A bunch somehow overcame their fears and sat in a circle to listen to a midwife who has been there for hundreds of women at a crucial time in their lives. Slowly, tentatively, the talking stick went around the room as each mother had a chance to speak about her experience. The pain ran deep. Feelings of overwhelm around birth trauma, and inability to slide gracefully into this new role slipped out even from those who had come with zipped lips.

I felt guilty as I listened. I sleep eight hours every night. The only lunch I make during the school year is for myself. The spills on my shirt got there from my own clumsiness. I haven't buckled a car seat in ten years. Yet these dear woman were bone tired. They stared at the long day ahead with two toddlers and counted the hours until bedtime. They had sacrificed their energy, their bodies, their freedom for the chance to keep an armload of small children alive. 

I love them.

In letting the curtain of I Have it All Together! droop down, some of them released their grip on a piece of the exhaustion. Doing life is hard enough without trying to convince anyone that you are perfect. 

It's amazing to me that the very children we collectively take care of lose no time trying to bamboozle anyone into thinking they are the best. They are after all the sleep robbers, spill makers, and picky sandwich eaters. Their moms love them. That is enough of a reason to leap out of bed in the morning. 

Maybe it is enough that my Mother loves me. 

“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the one who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, but you were not willing!"

Luke 13