A letter to the moms doing the hardest version of this job

I want to talk to a specific group of moms today.

Not the ones with the brunches and the flowers and the handmade cards — though I hope you have all of those things too. I’m talking to the moms who are carrying something extra heavy right now. The ones who cried in the car before walking back into the house. The ones who stayed up too late researching something they never thought they’d have to research. The ones who smiled at their kids this morning and held it together — even when holding it together felt like the hardest thing they’ve ever done.

I see you. I really do.

To the Mom Who Is Still Deciding

You are turning this over every single day. Weighing it, questioning it, wondering if you’re reading it right — wondering what it will do to your kids, your family, the life you built.

Here’s what I want you to know: the fact that you are this thoughtful, this careful, this committed to getting it right — that is your motherhood showing up. Deciding to stay and work on it is an act of love. Deciding you can’t is also an act of love. What you’re doing right now — sitting in the hard questions instead of running from them — that takes courage most people will never understand.

You are not failing your kids by asking the question. You are protecting them by taking it seriously.

To the Mom in the Middle of It

You are in the thick of something that asks everything of you — emotionally, financially, logistically — while still requiring you to show up every single day as someone’s safe place.

That is extraordinary. I don’t think we say that enough.

You are negotiating your future while helping with homework. You are managing your own grief while regulating theirs. You are making decisions that will shape the next decade of your family’s life while running on less sleep, less support, and less certainty than you’ve ever had.

Every time you put your kids at the center — every time you bite your tongue, take the high road, shield them from something they didn’t need to carry — that is an act of profound love. It doesn’t always feel heroic in the moment. It is.

To the Mom on the Other Side

You made it through. Not unscathed — there’s no such thing — but through.

Maybe co-parenting is still hard. Maybe it’s still a daily negotiation, still exhausting, still not what you imagined. Maybe you’re still figuring out who you are in this new version of your life. Maybe some days you wonder if you made the right call.

Here’s what I know: you are still showing up. Still protecting your kids. Still trying to build something stable and loving out of something that was broken. That doesn’t stop being remarkable just because it’s become your normal.

You earned this day. Let yourself feel that.

What All Three of You Have in Common

You are putting your children at the center of the hardest decisions of your life. You are trying to protect them from pain while navigating your own. You are holding their world steady while yours is shifting beneath your feet.

That is not just good mothering. That is exceptional mothering.

It won’t show up in a card. It won’t be celebrated at brunch. Most people around you have no idea what this version of motherhood actually costs — or how much love it takes to do it the way you’re doing it.

So today, I’m celebrating you. Not in spite of what you’re going through. Because of how you’re going through it.

Happy Mother’s Day. You are doing something remarkable — and I am so glad you know it.


If you’re ready for a little more support on this journey, I’d love to connect. Schedule a free consult call — you don’t have to do this alone.

~ Lyerly

Schedule a free consult call