After writing to working mothers, I promised a letter to stay-at-home-moms. It’s a letter I never produced, but promise it wasn’t for lack of trying.
You see, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pretend to intimately know your lives because I have never fully been a SAHM. That isn’t for lack of want. After my first child was born I wanted nothing more than to stay home with him. Financially we could never afford that, so I went back to work. Then, after years of ignoring Him, God hit me over the head and told me to leave that job. That high paying job. So I did. Now I suppose I would be categorized as a work-at-home-mom. It’s a strange name. As if SAHMs don’t work. Ha! What is with all these labels? It isn’t common place for dads to have 20 different job descriptions. So why do we do it? What drives this need to separate ourselves from each other so completely? It isn’t necessarily wrong. But it does lead me into the biggest reason why I couldn’t continue writing individual letters.
We are all moms.
Writing letters to different mommy categories is divisive. We each want to be understood individually, which was the point. That divisiveness, though, leads to Mommy Wars...
Mommy Wars: where we constantly one up, compare, judge, and swear the other side couldn't possibly understand. We collectively separate ourselves into categories and go against each other. "That side over there couldn't POSSIBLY understand and definitely doesn't have it as bad as me."
What. In. The. Actual. Heck.
We are all moms. We all want what's best for our families and selves. Our journeys, even categorized through similarities, are individualized and different.
So I ask, why aren't we lifting each other up and supporting each other? Why aren't we filling in the gaps where the others fall short? Because we know the struggle. We know the joy. We know we all fall short, admittedly or not.
So let's share in the good times and the rough ones. Here? In this space? Let's laugh and cry together. In authenticity and love, we are supportive.
Because we know.