Linzi Cora on Substack
No Small Parts
To All the Mothers I’ve Had
11
0:00
-6:21

To All the Mothers I’ve Had

A love letter to the many versions of my mom from the many versions of me
11

We never have just one mother.

.

My mother, like me, like all of us,

has experienced countless versions of herself.

.

This is my love letter

to the versions she was and is.

And to the many iterations of me

who needed her.


To the mother who carried and birthed me:

I know you longed for a child with an aching heart.

I know the timing was tangled, the circumstances less than ideal.

I know my delivery was disorienting, overwhelming, and unmooring.

And I am grateful.

.

To the mother who raised me when she was single and struggling:

I know you were surviving more than living.

I know you wanted to be loved and seen, not just needed.

I know there were times when dinner didn’t come easily.

And I am grateful.

.

To the mother who chose a blended family and financial security:

I know you invested in what you believed would serve you, and us, best.

I know there was no manual for becoming stepmother to six.

I know your marriage held both comfort and complexity.

And I am grateful.

.

To the mother who accepted I needed my dad:

I know my leaving left an ache inside.

I know you only ever wanted what was best for me.

I know you gave everything you had to give.

And I am grateful.

.

To the mother who mothered me through college:

I know you were never far, just a phone call or short drive.

I know you were my safety when my heart broke open for the first time.

I know your care, your presence, and comfort made all the difference.

And I am grateful.

.

To the mother who became my daughter’s grandmother:

I know her birth filled you with a joy too big for words.

I know you hoped I’d see you differently now, perhaps even fully.

I know you love her with every corner of your heart.

And I am grateful.

.

To the mother who comforted me when my marriage fell apart:

I know losing your beloved son-in-law brought its own quiet sorrow.

I know you were grieving too, even as you held space for mine.

I know, above all, you just wanted me to find peace.

And I am grateful.

.

To the mother who held me from afar when silence stood between us:

I know our estrangement carved a hollow nothing else could fill.

I know you whispered prayers for me and for us.

I know you kept the light on and held onto hope.

And I am grateful.

.

To the mother who battled breast cancer without me:

I know it was one of the darkest parts of your journey.

I know you downplayed it to me, not wanting to be a burden.

I know the words “cancer-free” felt like the first full breath in a long time.

And I am grateful.

.

To the mother who listened and apologized for the wounds that shaped me:

I know you thought I was fine or had forgotten, and that made it easier not to ask.

I know you carried regret for the things you couldn’t change.

I know it took the woman you became to reckon with the one you had been.

And I am grateful.

.

To the mother who forgave me for the way I punished her:

I know I hurt you too, more than I wanted to admit.

I know you loved me anyway.

I know your forgiveness, like mine, was rooted in love.

And I am grateful.

.

To the mother who kept showing up, even when it was hard:

I know rebuilding what we lost took time and courage.

I know our sensitivities differ, and we don’t speak the same emotional language.

I know we have both been learning how to love and let ourselves be loved.

And I am grateful.

.

To the mother who lost her husband this year:

I know his absence is a quiet weight you carry every day.

I know there are moments you replay, wishing for a different outcome.

I know you chose the best bonus dad for me.

And I am grateful.

.

To the mother I have today:

I know you are only human.

I know you’re doing your best, one day at a time.

I know you.

I see you.

I forgive you.

I love you.

And I am grateful.

.

To the mother I hope to have tomorrow:

I know we’re creating something real and magical.

I know there’s more laughter to share, more stories to write and tell, more time to spend together.

I know choosing you now

is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

I know I will have no regrets.

And I am grateful.


You were never just one mother.

You were many.

And I was never just one daughter.

I was many, too.

Together,

we found our way forward.

And through it all,

I had you.

.

And I am grateful.

.

Happy Mother’s Day

Linzi


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