When the Tears Fall
Revisiting these words
I wrote this poem, When the Tears Fall, ten years ago, with a one-year-old and three-year-old. I had been asked to write a Mother's Day reflection to share at church, and this piece of writing flowed out of me. It was well before I'd ever heard of matrescence but, despite still being so early into my own motherhood journey, I already had an acute awareness of the extreme emotional landscape of motherhood.
Five years later, now with three kids and finding myself deep in the challenges of undiagnosed neurodivergence but with a newfound understanding of matrescence, I shared it again on Mother's Day, at a different church. I was beginning to have the language to describe my experiences of motherhood, and the transformation and shaping of identity mothers go through across all stages of this journey.
I recently pulled this poem out again, having not read it for a number of years. My youngest child is now eight. This poem hit me in a fresh way. I am in yet another stage of motherhood... but the core truth of this reflection remains the same: joy and grief come in many flavours, and can turn up unexpectedly. We each have our own unique tapestry of tears - but we are never alone in it.
As we approach another Mother's Day, I want to acknowledge the pain that this day brings for many mothers, and for those whose heart aches to become a mother.
For others, it is a day that brings immense gratitude.
Or grief. Or exhaustion and elation and tension and confusion in holding all of these emotions within the one heart.
It is all real. It is all valid.
Whatever comes to the surface for you this Mother's Day, may you be met with tenderness - from yourself and from others around you.
When the Tears Fall
When the tears fall, I am with you.
When you look at the ultrasound photo, this picture of the life growing inside of you, and you understand that this baby is fearfully and wonderfully made by Me, your Creator, and the tears slide down past the smile on your face, I am with you.
When you look at the test strip in your shaking hand, negative results once again, and the tears fall onto the single line, I am with you.
As you rest your hands on your belly, smiling each time your fingers twitch from your baby’s kicks, and your eyes well up with tears of love and hope for this child, I am with you.
As you drive to the hospital and later as you sit in emergency, explaining to the nurse in a shaking voice that does not sound like your own that you have not felt the baby move for two days, I am with you.
In the moment your child is placed into your arms for the first time, and you gaze at this life you have birthed, and your tears fall onto her soft head, I am with you.
As you hold your child close to your heartbeat, knowing that his has stopped, and you wait for the moment when the nurse will have to come and take him away, and the tears you have been fighting back will fall onto your empty hands, I am with you.
When you stroke your child’s hair, watching her chest rise and fall as she sleeps, and her peaceful face brings peace to your heart and tears to your eyes, I am with you.
When you stand, exhausted, in the darkness, rocking your baby, and you hear the clock slowly tick the hours by, and the tears fall from one crying face onto another, I am with you.
On the first day your child runs into your arms and says, ‘I love you’ for no reason except that you’re his mother, and you choke back ‘I love you, too,’ as you try to hold back the tears, I am with you.
On the first day your child stares you in the face, arms folded, and screams, ‘I hate you!’ for no reason except that you’re her mother, and you turn your back so she doesn’t see your tears, I am with you.
In that moment when you watch your daughter walk down the aisle and you know that your little girl is now a grown woman, and the tears of pride threaten to disturb your mascara, I am with you.
As you write your return address on the envelope of your son’s birthday card and you hope that this will be the year your little boy, now a grown man, responds to your letters, your calls, and a tear lands on the table, narrowly missing the card, I am with you.
As you hold the newborn in your arms, the first baby to share your family name in two decades, and you smile at your own child, your tears mirrored in one another’s face as you bond in a new and profound way, I am with you.
As you hang up the phone and slump to the ground, realising, with the news just received, that you are going to outlive your child, and you press a fist to your mouth, fighting back the inevitable onslaught of tears, I am with you.
When you look at your family photos, the images of the generations following you, and your heart is full of joy as your eyes are full of tears, I am with you.
When you look at your family photos, just the two of you, and your heart aches for what never was, and the lone tear that trickles down your cheek matches your loneliness, I am with you.
My daughters, each one forever loved and cherished, I will never, ever leave you. When the tears fall, I am with you. On this day of celebrating motherhood, I see you and I know you and I am with you.
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Featured artworks: My Journey, Part 1; Matrescence: The Unravelling; Trust