A Mother's Tears: Crying in Silence

Some tears fall loudly—shouted into pillows, spilled through laughter, or trembled out during heartfelt conversations. But a mother's tears? They're often silent. Invisible drops that slip between doing dishes and folding laundry, tucked behind smiles that light up children’s hearts. Yes, I have spent lots of time crying in silence.

Woman laying on bed

I’ve cried while stirring sauce for dinner, while searching for a missing sock, while watching my child sleep with limbs sprawled across the bed like a tiny starfish. Not because of sadness alone, but because motherhood is a mosaic of emotion—joy, fear, love, loneliness—all stitched together in quiet hues.

We cry for what we lost when we gave everything. For the parts of ourselves we tucked away to make room for the small and beautiful chaos of parenting. We cry when our children hurt, and there's nothing we can do but hold space. We cry when they grow too fast. We cry simply because we're tired.

But these tears—these silent tears—are sacred. They're not weakness. They're a release. A reminder that even in our strongest moments, we are allowed to feel deeply.

If you've cried in silence, you're not alone. You are seen. You are held in a circle of mothers who know what it's like to feel the world’s weight and still make magic out of macaroni crafts and bedtime stories.

So to the mothers wiping tears as they pack lunchboxes… I see you. I honor you. Your quiet strength is a force of nature.

My summer has been so full of appointments, service's and so many things. Today I got a call from one of our providers telling me, my son needs to go in for images of his heart. It looks like his left side ventricle is enlarged. Today, I cry out of fear. Please pray for us.