To the Ones Who Mother Through the Wreckage

Gretchen Wood Lakshmi • May 11, 2025

A Love Letter for the Ones Who Never Got the Card They Deserved

To the ones who mother in silence, in fear, in grief, in fight — this is for you.
Not everyone gets the flowers. Not everyone gets the soft words.
But you, the ones who keep going through the wreckage —
you deserve a card too.

A Peaceful Mother’s Day 🌹

To the moms who hide in closets with their children
because he’s drinking again and his voice is changing.

Not because you wanted to be there —
but because you knew

if you left the house, it would get worse.

To the mother who reads a shaky text at 11:34 p.m. —
"Can you come get me?" —
and tells her child to stay quiet, lock the door, and wait until morning.
Not because you don’t care. But because you’ve learned how

explosions happen when you interrupt a man like that.

To the mother who sends her kids to a house ruled by addiction,
because court documents say she has to,
and the risk of going back to court is heavier than she can carry alone.

I see the way your stomach knots all weekend.
I see how you bargain with the universe.
I see how you never stop trying to protect them —
even when your hands are tied.

A Peaceful Mother’s Day 🕊️

To the moms who stay —
not because you’re weak, but because escape isn’t free.
Because the cost of leaving means risking custody, risking retaliation,
risking being believed.

To the mother who gave up her own safety
to keep the spotlight off her kids.

To the mother who stays up all night searching online:
“Is this abuse?” “Can I get custody back?” “How to heal a child from trauma?”
You are doing holy work in the dark.

A Peaceful Mother’s Day 🌻

To the children of mothers who cut them with their words,
who needed you to be small so they could feel big,
who told you that you were selfish for wanting boundaries
and dramatic for remembering what they worked so hard to forget.

You tried to earn love that should have been freely given.
You wanted softness and got shame.
This day is heavy for you, too.
You're allowed to grieve the mother you didn't get —
and still become the kind of person that you needed most.

A Peaceful Mother’s Day 🦋

To the survivors who raise children while healing themselves.
Who rock babies with one hand
and reparent their inner child with the other.
Who pause mid-argument and apologize,
because you’re learning how to do it differently.

You are not perfect.
But you are powerful.
Because you're doing the work of generations.

Today, we see and honor you.
Not the mask you wear in public.
Not the filtered photos.
Not the courtroom version of your story.

We see the mother in the fire.
The one who keeps loving, keeps showing up, keeps protecting,
even when no one claps.
Even when no one sees the smoke.