Thankless

Being a mother is a thankless job.
Especially when it’s not your own child.
I remember my own mother tirelessly combing through lice in my hair, taking sick days off work for me, holding me as I cried when I fell asleep.
But she birthed me in her womb, grew me from a small seed.  Watched my eyes get bigger, my bones get stronger, my hair grow longer.

How can I commit the same level of attention and care never having had that flutter in my belly or tiny hand on my face?

Can love grow faster if need be?  Can a woman become a mother just because the call arises?

I pray that the Goddesses that came before me can give me the strength I need to work harder, not give up, pour onto my heart their grace.

Or may God have mercy on me.  And my acquired child.

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