Artwork credit: “Mother’s Day” by Chihiro Iwasaki, 1972

Motherhood is indefinable.
It is faceless;
It is pervasive.
It is both all-encompassing and understated.

It’s an umbrella.
It shields;
It protects.
It is both forgotten and celebrated.

Motherhood demands industry and ingenuity.
It is tireless;
It is thankless.
It is productive.

It’s a verb.
It is active;
It is passive.
It is.

To mother is to become an unyielding force with the power to move heaven and earth.
It is to part ways with your past, to lose a piece of yourself to the future.

To mother is to crack open your heart, exposing it raw to vulnerability, to depth, to love, to hope.

To become a mother is to see the dawn of a new day for both yourself and another.
It is to know someone instantly and intimately without even knowing their name;
To give someone life, someone who changes your very purpose.

To mother is to be woven into a story outside of yourself, an ancient history bound together by hundreds of thousands of years of sisterhood.

Motherhood is sisterhood.
It is community.
It is strength.

To mother is to err, rage, wilt, grow;
To question, doubt, and evolve.
It is to worry and weigh;
It is to change and be changed.

To mother is to mentor, curate, guide, heal;
To listen, defend, teach, and learn.
It is to hold;
It is to comfort and be comforted.

It is to apologize and to give thanks.

Motherhood is trying.
Motherhood is jubilant.
It exposes us to the far reaches of the human experience.

To mother is to feel so deeply, to love so fiercely, that you welcome an unknown future with open arms, because in that future, with all of your tomorrows, lies your whole heart.