This is for the mothers who:

—Have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer Wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, “It’s okay honey, Mommy’s here.”

—Have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can’t be comforted.

—Show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

—Run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes—And all the mothers who DON’T.

—Gave birth to babies they’ll never see—And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

—Hang their children’s priceless art collections on their refrigerator doors.

—Froze their buns on metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their own cars and that when their kids asked, “Did you see me, Mom?” they could say, “Of course, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” and mean it.

—All the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner—And for all the mothers who count to ten instead.

—All the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the (grand)mothers who wanted to, but just couldn’t find the words.

—All the mothers who go hungry, so their children can eat.

—All the mothers who read “Goodnight, Moon” twice a night for a year. And then read it again, “Just one more time.”

—All the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

—All the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

—Every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls, “Mom?” in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home…or even away at college…or have their own families.

—All the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach aches, assuring them they’d be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up. Right away.

—Mothers whose children have gone astray, who can’t find the words to reach them.

—All the mothers who bite their lips until they bleed when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

—All the mothers of the victims of recent school shootings—And the mothers of those who did the shooting.

—The mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

—All the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good mother anyway?

Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time?

Or is it in her heart?

Is it the ache she feels when she watches her son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time?

Is it the jolt that takes her from sleep to dread, from bed to crib, at 2 A.M. to put her hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

Or the panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M. when she just wants to hear their key in the door and know they are safe again in her home?

Or is it the need to flee from wherever she is and hug her child when she hears news of a fire, a car accident, or a child dying?

The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts are for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation—And for mature mothers learning to let go; For mothers who children have died and for children whose mothers have died; For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers; For single mothers and married mothers; For mothers with money and mothers without.

This is for you all. For all of us…

Hang in there. In the end we can only do the best we can.

Tell them every day that you love them.

And pray and never stop being a mother…

Please pass this to a wonderful mother you know.

Happy Mother’s Day.

– adapted from Suzanne Beaudoin –

Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
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