Happy Friday evening, my dear family and friends.
How are you doing on this Friday evening before Mother’s Day? I truly hope you’re well. Tonight, I want to begin by thanking you for being here — your presence means more than you know.
I also want to gently prepare your heart: this evening’s letter may carry a little more weight for some of you beautiful women. So if you can, find a quiet space where your heart can breathe… a moment where you can truly hear my words. They come from my heart, and I hope they land safely on yours.
There are moments in life that ask us to slow down and honor the stories we don’t always talk about. Today, I felt called to write to the women whose motherhood lives in longing — the ones who have carried hope, heartbreak, and love in ways the world doesn’t always see. If this is you, I hope these words meet you gently.
Dear mother of the heart,
Thank you for coming to sit with me in this tender moment of reflection. This letter is for you because you matter too.
Some women who long to be mothers never get to experience their bodies changing in the way a woman’s body does when she carries a child under her heart. Some never get the chance to hold their newborn, and that is a quiet heartbreak that cannot be fully understood unless you’ve lived it. How could it be?
Those of us who have borne a child from our bodies — who conceived, carried, and gave birth — we don’t know the depth of the ache carried by the woman who longed desperately and silently for a child of her own.
To the women who have longed to be moms: you are so loved and so deeply valued. I don’t know what it’s like to not have a child who came from my body. I can’t begin to imagine the longing you carry within your heart.
I know a couple of you personally — women who carry extra love inside them. I’ve seen how some of you have loved a child as though he or she were your own. The way you hold a baby, the tenderness in your eyes… it is a marvel to witness a woman give her heart so freely, regardless of whose body that child came from.
There are women who mother without ever being called “Mom.” Women whose hearts stretched wide long before life ever placed a child in their arms. Women who carried hope the way others carry breath — quietly, faithfully, without applause.
This letter is for you, the woman who can and does mother without ever being called Mom.
For the woman who longed to be a mom… who prayed, waited, tried, hoped, and held her breath through every month, every year, every almost. For the woman who sat through baby showers with a smile that hid a thousand tiny heartbreaks. For the woman who learned how to celebrate others while grieving silently for herself.
You are not forgotten. Your story is not small. Your love is not wasted.
There is a kind of motherhood that lives in the way you show up for people. In the way you listen. In the way you nurture. In the way you hold space for others to become. In the way you love with a depth that can only come from longing.
Some women mother through biology. Some through birth. Some through adoption. Some through presence. Some through the quiet, steady way they pour into the world around them.
And some — like you — mother through the ache itself. Through the tenderness that longing carved into you. Through the compassion that grew in the empty spaces. Through the wisdom that only comes from wanting something so deeply it reshaped you.
If today feels tender, I hope you let yourself rest inside that truth. You don’t have to be strong every moment. You don’t have to pretend it never mattered. You don’t have to explain the ache to anyone.
Your heart tells the story.
And if no one has said it to you before, let me say it now:
You are seen. You are valued. You are loved. And the world is softer because you’re in it.
Motherhood takes many forms. Yours is no less real, no less sacred, no less worthy of honor.
This letter is for you — the woman who longed to be a mom, and in so many quiet ways… already is.
Thank you for being you. Thank you for sharing this moment with me. And thank you for the love you continue to give.
Love Life++ Hugs,
Dawna‑Rae
🦋 may the butterflies remind you that we are all still becoming
Love Life with Dawna 