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Hi, Mom.

How did you know you wanted to be a mother?

How did you know you could be a mother?

How did you know I needed you as my mother?

How did you know how to educate me on being not just a girl, but a woman in a world that doesn't always respect us?

How did you know what to say for a heartbreak vs. what to say when darkness encompassed my mind & stole the light from my eyes?

How did you know my spirit before you met me?

How did you know I'd thrive in the soil you planted me in?

How did you know?


There are so many books written about parenting. But, in truth, we both know that they're advice columns, practices & words others have written in hopes that mistakes won't repeat

themselves for the next parent. Isn't that what parenting is, though? Making mistakes & figuring it out as you go? Each child is different & how you handle a situation is based on that specific encounter.

When you found out you were pregnant, you weren't given a manual on how to be a parent. There were no instructions that came with me upon delivery. You just sorta...I winged it. You winged it three different times, with three different humans, three different temperaments, three different life paths.

Was it scary?

Truthfully. Was it scary raising us in a world that you had no control over? Scary that you could give us the best words of wisdom, but we could still slide down the wrong slope? Scary that regardless of the life you gave us, we could make a single decision that would affect us forever? Was it scary to unclip our wings & let us soar?

I'm in awe of you.



I'm in awe of you.

It's not because I think you're perfect. It's because I know you're not perfect, but your imperfections flourish & pour out of your soul in the most perfect, soothing manner. All your wounds that are plastered in scars remind me that you are human & that you feel & think & breathe just like any of us. You have a way of making messes into masterpieces, a way of reminding me that it is more than okay not to be okay, a way of viewing life that challenges conventionality.

You love harder than most. You see before it's visible. You give more than you take.

& my, how you've given me more than I could ever repay you.

I don't know how you do it.

How you pick yourself up every day & keep keeping on.

How you live your life, but still aid in the lives of three of your heartbeats.

How you make nonexistent ends meet.

How you love when you've been beaten to your knees.

How you smile after you've been burned.

How you make unfair situations into fair outcomes.

How you keep pouring from an empty cup.

I used to question why you were so hard on me. Why you pushed me beyond my comfort points. Why you'd raise your voice & get frustrated when I didn't do something or I'd do it & it wasn't the best decision. But then I realized when you look at me, you see


You see pieces of yourself scattered in between the creases of me. You see a younger you staring back at present you.

And you want this you.

you want me.

to be better than you.

& isn't that what parenting is? What being a mother is? What being a great mother is? Wanting your child to be better than you, to be stronger than you, to push harder than you, to be the person you've always known I'd be?

& you've always known.

you've known since you heard my first heartbeat that I'd be the best part of you. that I'd be

your heart outside of your chest. that I'd be the greatest gift you ever asked God for.

You call me your Sunshine, but you are mine.

You are my light in the darkness.

You are my safety net when I walk the tightrope.

You are my glue that pieces me together.

you are me,

as I am you.

& if I had the choice of choosing a mother, I'd always choose you.

I'd choose you over anyone every time.

to the moon.

Happy Mother's Day.

May your day be ever filled with love, light, and of course, an abundance of chicken tenders💜🌻✨

Cheyenne Pajardo

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