To all the non-birth mothers this Mothers’ Day weekend

The U.K. seems to have a different Mothers’ Day to the rest of the world but this applies to British mothers here too.

I see the love in your eyes for your children, be they still under the age of eighteen, or grown adults. I see the way you feel each of their struggles and how it hurts you when they hurt. I see you light up when they are happy and achieve something they didn’t think they could.

The emotions you display when they tell you that they love you show how you truly believe, whether through adoption or otherwise, no matter what they call you, these are your kids and it’s worth all the highs and lows to have them in your life.

I see the way you wish you could have been with them from the very start, that you wonder if it makes you any less of a mother. As a child of more than one mother, I can tell you it doesn’t. Your desire to be a mother to someone who needs you and your unconditional love for them make you one. 

When your child, who has been through the mill on the way to becoming yours, pushes back because they don’t know how to handle the love you show them, and they are used to being abandoned/abused/neglected by those who should love them and those who claim to love them; I see the hurt in your eyes being replaced by the determination to see them through this and show them you mean it, that you aren’t going anywhere. 

You are so very special to those who count you as a mother. They are thankful every single day. They know that whether they call you by your first name of use a motherly moniker they are without a doubt a part of you as you are of them. Biology doesn’t matter. Not when souls connect like yours have.

Happy Mothers’ Day, ladies. 

Published by scribblenubbin

A conundrum inside an enigma.

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