A letter to mom in room 18...

Hi mama. 


Yes- mama. You’re a mother now. In the disorienting cloud of dust left behind by the explosion that just went off around you, it was impossible to congratulate yourself. You are “mom”. Despite the nature of this place- a place where there is no privacy, a place where you must have permission and assistance to hold your baby, a place where mothering is hard- know that he is yours. You know best, even when you feel you know nothing. No one can do it better than you. 


It wasn’t your fault.


You can do this. You already are doing this. Hour by hour, keep going. There is hope mama- Hope that is more fierce than the storm that just nearly consumed you. Allow that hope to carry you into the darkness, with faith that there is enormous light to be found within it. 


Go home. 

Breathe un-sanitized air. 




Care for yourself without guilt- as you are the greatest asset to your baby. So be as gentle and kind to yourself as you are with him. 


It wasn’t your fault. 


You are not alone. 


Angry, ashamed, grateful, brave, weak, exhausted, insecure, happy, devastated, lonely, relieved, regretful, lost, numb. All of it- you’re normal. 


You will make great meaning of this. 


In the very non-normal world you have now found yourself living in, know that you are normal. In time, you will meet others like you. You will be embraced by a thriving community of warrior parents- those who have walked in your very shoes. Those who know what it’s like to cry in a parking garage before they compose themselves enough to drive home for the night.


It wasn’t your fault (throwing this one at you one last time, because I know you need it). 


You are loved. You’ve got this.