Reclaiming the Power of Motherhood as Source

The Extraction of the Invisible Root

There is a shrinking energy that comes with the phrase “just a mother.”

It is the extractive nature of a world that degrades the Mother to a utility. It is to use her for the role she plays and enjoy what she offers without ever truly noticing her. It is that shrinking feeling that somehow a woman has to become “less than” because her title isn’t valued with a salary.

When they say “just,” they are looking at the domestic role rather than her embodiment of generosity—the constant, intentional cultivator of her own expansion. They don’t see the growth required for her to stand tall while she meets the conditions life throws at her. They don't see her dodging toys and navigating piles of laundry while simultaneously holding the intensity of her children’s emotions and the heavy internal narrative of her own. It is seeing the tree without noticing the roots. We feel the weight of the world, yet the world calls that weight “nothing.”

That is the erasure. That is the lie. And we do this to ourselves, too... unintentionally.

Finding the Magic in the Invisible Labor

I was sitting in my son’s room in the same chair we’ve had since 2018, the one we purchased when I was expecting my first. I was receiving the support of the chair not just physically, but as a portal where time is absent, moving between memories that offer love and tenderness. I noticed how it has held me for eight years, and I realized something.

People call it “just a chair.” But this chair has seen me grow three babies. It has held me when I collapsed. It has been the place of my deepest solitude, the place where I’ve memorized the features of my children's faces. It’s where the loudest cries have been witnessed and met. It is the place where I have etched memories into my mind and my body that I hope to keep for a lifetime. It has held me in the earliest and darkest of hours, holding dreams and hopes and prayers only known in that space. It has seen the tiredness and the pain, and yet, it remains generous. Yet, without anyone knowing, it is “just a chair.”

If it is true that a chair can be a sacred witness to our deepest solitude and loudest cries, what is true of us? We are more than “Just A Mother.”

Motherhood as an Initiation and an Ecosystem

Motherhood is not a job title; it is an initiation. It is a sacred way of being, a radical responsibility to hold and meet ourselves and the conditions for life. And that starts with being home to yourself first, so you can be home to your children.

We are not “just” anything. We are not “just a mother.”

We are the Source.

In Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer teaches us that the oldest trees—the Mother Trees—use an invisible infrastructure beneath the soil to send excess sugar to the saplings in the shade. They don't see this as a sacrifice; it is the ecosystem’s way of ensuring its own future. To be a mother is to be the primary architect of that ecosystem.

When I look at my mother, and her mother before her, I don’t see a list of tasks. I see the root system that fed me... and I realize that I am now the soil they are planted in.

The fierce, spunky fire of her mother runs in my blood. My mother—the fun, up-for-anything memory-maker—inspires me in my own motherhood. And as I look at my own daughters, I realize that I am now the soil they are planted in.

Why the Mother Must Be Home to Herself

I am done participating in the dismissal of what I offer, in my value. I no longer want to gloss over the way I show up, present, attuned, centered.. I am the magic-maker, the memory-maker, the manager, and the one who notices the micro-shifts in a child’s face that the rest of the world misses. I am the regulator, the source of comfort and safety. My body is still home to my three kiddos. My lap is their preferred chair whether playing games or eating dinner. The steady drum of my heartbeat is still the place their ears land when big emotions run wild.

I am the ecosystem. And what I do for myself - the way I care for and value myself - I do for the ones who came before me, those who are next to me, and those who come after me.

Because when I tend to the Source, I am healing the depletion of my lineage. I am modeling a new baseline for my daughters. I am proving that my life doesn't thrive on the back of my exhaustion, depletion, and the badge of "busy" or "tired" - but rather on my vitality.

“My expansion is not a betrayal of my people; it is the gift I give to them. It is the permission I give them to be whole, too.”

A Mother’s Day Reclamation

Mother’s Day is this weekend—a day intended to pour into the mother. It is a place to be seen, noticed, and acknowledged. For some, you might have to do this for yourself. Others might live in the nuance of this day carrying grief—for the loss of your own mother or the longing to be one.

This weekend, we don’t retreat, or shrink, or participate in the devaluation of our role. We see ourselves not as a sacrifice to be consumed, but as the Mother Tree—the one who understands that her strength is the forest's strength.

We honor the role by embodying our own sense of self first. We ensure our roots are deep and wide, and that we are full enough to overflow. Because a Mother Tree doesn't give from her lack; she gives from her abundance. She is first and simultaneously last. She is the source that must be tended so the whole grove can thrive. We honor the bestowment of this privilege without sacrificing our own souls in the process.

You are an essential piece of the infrastructure to your children and your home . You are the ancient, irreplaceable source from which your children’s world begins. And because you are the Source—you are also worthy to receive and be tended to. May it be so this weekend. Celebrating you and wishing you A VERY Happy Mother's Day.

Sending you so much love.

Kristen

PS: If You'd Like to Stay Connected

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