An open letter to mothers and to daughters too

June 06, 2023

An open letter to mothers and to daughters too

An open letter to mothers

Whatever journey led you here to motherhood, it was almost certainly long and twisty and intricately beautiful. Maybe it was too long in the making, or much sooner than you wanted, or by happenstance coincidentally perfect. Whether you feel like you were created for this sacred purpose (which wether you believe it or not it’s true - the fact that you are one makes it so) OR if you feel like your drowning in the weight and depths of this foreign sea (I see you too and I believe there’s a lifeboat around the corner for us. Hang in there, one breathless kick and paddle at a time. Together we can keep our heads above water, I know we can). But whatever brought you here or mental state it finds you in, here you are.

There’s this tickle in the back of my mind that I feel compelled to acknowledge in this vital moment of my own motherhood. Mom guilt. Mom guilt is real and rather vicious in its many and unrelenting moments. . .And I promise this ends with a shame off of you moment but until then allow me to be transparent in the clutches this state has had on me, on us as a kind.

When my daughter was about to be born, I remember being told by many beautiful souls in my life, to remember that I was a whole person and all the needs that come with that. Said with the best of intentions. I heard don't lose yourself. This new thing I was becoming didn’t mean I had to lose who I had been. That I would still be seen, and known and that space would be created for me to do the things that had once filled me up. I was still an individual with individual needs, I should feel free to take the time to be and do. It’s a truly beautiful sentiment and proves that it takes a village to raise up families - and we would be lost without our villages. If I am being honest though, I needed a season where I only had to be this one thing to this one tiny human. I needed to get lost in these new waters of motherhood. To be submerged in the tiny tears, the endless diapers the life giving drain of food and milk and generally keeping another human alive. And I did. I got lost in this one thing I needed. To sit in the uncomfortable role that I am not sure I was created for but was determined to do. But in true miss-interpretation of the best of intentions I let this beast creep into my heart and mind. Guilt my old friend, once laid down, has risen up in this new season wrapped in a cloak of a mothers love. When I am with my beautifully passionate spitfire of a daughter, who most definitely inherited her father's negative personal bubble, I often feel desperate for space that is fully other. Space to fill myself up, space to be in places I feel confident in like work or setting a table or pouring words on to a page. And I often don't know how to be or do those things in her presence - and so I wish for other or elsewhere. And THAT makes me feel incredibly guilty. And when I get to those spaces, those other and elsewhere, and I'm without her - I think of her and the guilt is on the other side here too. And I can already hear your collective voice of readers saying I shouldn't feel guilty for wanting or even needing that. But love isn't the only thing without reason. Even being somewhere right, doing something right, can feel wrong sometimes. And that is the face mom guilt has taken in my life. To feel guilty in her presence and to take it with me every day I walk out the door. So what do we do with this Bitch named mom-guilt?

I think maybe we have to transcend time and be honest about who we are and where we are and (maybe with a little help of our villages) we can raise up some tiny humans who evolve up and down, complexly and simply, into beautiful souls free of guilt because in mama righteousness we kicked it to the curb.

I had this moment recently, where I was at a worship night and I remembered what it was like to go to one of those long ago. I would dance, I would write, I would jump, I would sing at the top of my lungs. And there is many reasons worship doesn't take that form for me anymore. But on this particular night I longed for a connection that resembled the me of old. But this thing happens in worship now - where I feel tethered to my sweet daughter and no matter who is watching her I feel like my attention is divided to her presence. It's not bad, even if it's not always good. And on this particular night I felt a whisper of my Father for real true connection, and as I went to close my eyes I worried about the tether. And I felt this still small whisper say "your village has her" . . .and a damn broke loose inside of me in that moment and I let go of my duty, my control and my abandon. Leo and I have talked about that night since, she says "mommy you cried in church" and it has honestly become one of my favorite moments. Because I can take my daughter to church and teach her religion but thanks - no thanks. I would rather show her what it's like to have a relationship with a loving Father who gives and takes. That night He took my guilt and left me bare in my motherhood. And it began to look and feel a lot more beautiful, a lot more me.

Here is what i've come to today, my old self HAD to die to give birth to this complex and sometimes singly focused person i've become. So to Joanna Hanson-neigh Doyle the girl I was born - who has been fractured and whole, complete and filled up in every creative and hunger seeking way possible. Thank you. Thank you for being the person I both was and became. The person that made me fall in love with ME, in all my forms. Today - I stop mourning that you died and I EMBRACE who I am today. I can not be me without being a mother and I can't be a mother without fully being me. So shame off of me for letting you die and being re-birthed as something wholly different. I am Joanna Doyle - mother, wife & friend - sometimes singularly focused, sometimes on display for all.

To my daughter Leo, I will be tethered to you my child, for all of my days, but not with guilt but rather freely and fully without it. The doubt, the shame, the guilt will still whisper but I am not here for that voice anymore.

And here is my hope for you mama. I hope you feel freedom to embrace where you are today and to know that you are seen, you are loved, you are known. Without pressure or precedence. Without guilt for being there or back again. Mama you are love incarnate and you are so very loved. And may every word spoken over you in the best of intentions not limit you but rather find you again when you are free.

and to my village - Thank You.

The invisible string

There’s this invisible string that ties me to you

Where you go I go

Where you are there I am too

It's been pulled to it's limit

wrapped, tangled and knotted

It's been used like a blanket of comfort around you

It's sometimes frayed and other times the example of a perfect bow

If only you would wear it

My hopes for you my child are this

That you would never be limited by this string that follows you