The month of May is loaded for me. It’s full of birthdays, my own included, and in memoriams, along with Mother’s Day.

Though my mom is no longer with me, I distinctly remember her fragrance, her singing voice, her cooking, and her sense of style. I choose not to remember her sadness, her pain, and her loss, though it informed her parenting; I know that if she knew better, she would have done better.

Motherhood is complicated.

A few weeks ago, I was sitting at an event. The woman, who was a complete stranger to me, asked me questions about my writing, published books, and life. As I shared with her my latest book, I immediately sensed her discomfort. Her face blushed, and she stared at me as if she had seen a ghost. I paused, waiting to see if there was something wrong, I did not know her well enough to ask if she was okay, but I sensed she wasn’t. Something I said struck a chord in her heart, her mothers’ heart. She felt connected to me, to my lived experience, which left her uncomfortable, and it was quite apparent. She was gracious and she excused herself from the table. I did not see her for the rest of the event.

At that moment, I knew she was struggling with something, but somehow, I wanted to believe that she walked away hopeful, with my card in hand. Whatever she was going through, there was hope waiting for her on the other side, that no matter the circumstances, things could get better.

That’s what mothers do. We live hopeful, believing that tomorrow is another opportunity for our children to rise up and do better and be better. And as moms we will forever encourage and champion their wholeness.

Living hopeful…that’s the gift we receive when we decide to parent a child. It is our superpower. It’s the secret that lives in our hearts, minds, and souls for our children.

To every mom out there doing their very best, I see you and you are…you are doing your best!