All mothers carry it.
The cry that can forever be heard.
The one that rattles your bones with a loss of words.
Like a hollow echo that goes unheard.
With a heavy soul and vision blurred.
It shadders your heart in two.
Wishing it was you
When a child cries in rue
And a mother has nothing left to do.
But be the hand that pulls them through.
As a mother of three, there has been a few occasions that my children cry out in pain. Whether from injury or heartache the pain is the same. It shakes your soul and breaks your heart. It is difficult to be the one who is suppose to fix it – expected to fix it– and in that moment, realizing you can not. The confusion, the fear, the hurt looking back at you from your childs eyes is something no parent forgets. Knowing, if it were possible, you would take their place if you could. But sometimes that isn’t possible, is it? Instead, sometimes we must be the hand they hold, that pulls them through. This will forever be, one of the hardest job a parent must do.
Heather Congrove 