I close my eyes and gently switch on my microphone, allowing my heart to spill out like an overflowing cup, mingling with the tears that cascade down my cheeks. The pain I feel is so profound that it prompts me to question my own efforts—why am I striving to be a good mom when I find myself concealing my tears from my child? Is it right for me to hide my true emotions? Shouldn't I be open about how I feel? It’s only been four months since he left this world, but the ache of missing him feels as fresh as if it were yesterday. I long for the moments we shared, the conversations I would have with him—calling him to recount the events of my day, the little things that happened yesterday, or even the mundane occurrences from the day before. We would have laughed together, cracking jokes that only we understood, and enjoyed comfortable silences where no words were needed, yet tears would still flow freely between us. I desperately want to escape this sadness that envelops me, but it clings to me like a shadow. So, I make the conscious decision to turn off my tears and slip into “mom mode,” where I push myself to keep moving forward. I immerse myself in activities, keeping busy to distract from the ache, focusing on my child's needs and the daily routines that require my attention. Yet, as I fill my time with tasks and responsibilities, I can’t escape the overwhelming emotions that lie just beneath the surface. In moments of solitude, the grief washes over me like a tidal wave, and I yearn to let myself cry, to fully confront the heartache that feels too heavy to bear. I know that I must find a way to navigate this complex landscape of emotions—balancing my role as a mother while also honoring my own pain and allowing myself the space to grieve. It's a difficult journey, but it’s one I know I must undertake, for both my sake and my daughter's.
