It Takes a Village.

I was a child who was raised by a village of other mothers – ones who raise me still.

And it takes a very special village to raise a very broken adult.

I try to be available and abundant because I know how it feels on the other end.

I know how it feels to wonder why my mommy didn’t want me, if she’s coming home, or ultimately – why she chose to walk away.

I know exactly what not-to-do, because she showed me exactly that.

But, someone raised you, and you’re not alone.

There are a lot of us out there – raising kids so they can have a life they won’t have to recover from like we still are.

And raising eachother in the mix.

I expected motherless motherhood to be lonely, but instead, I find it to be crowded at the extra mile.

I never expected an abundance of arms lifting me up and rooting me on.

But, here we are.

I didn’t understand that so many other mothers were “on-call” to help. 

Sometimes it’s hard to be motherless in motherhood, but others, I realize that there’s always some other mother to call.

Some mother who gets it.

Some mother who shows up for you.

Some mother who loves you.

Some mother who claims you, trauma and all.

Those mothers – they’re the village.

It was the village that raised me when I needed a mom.

That raised my standards for a better life.

The evolving village that raises me now. 

There’s an army of women who understand you, who want you, who support you – even if your own mom doesn’t.

An army of other mothers who love so selflessly, they always have extra to give.

The village doesn’t just mother our children, it mother’s us all.

And honestly, it takes a very special village to raise a very broken adult.