I’m not a big crier. I don’t typically cry during movies or other times when it seems normal for people to cry. Sometimes I’ve even thought my crier must be broken. But an event took place a few years ago in my personal life that turned my tear faucet on full blast and I thought the handle might be stuck.
How many times have young moms been in the trenches and needed someone older to swoop us up in their seasoned survivor arms, hug us tight and remind us of the truth? How many times have we not cried out for help because we were ashamed to? Because someone along the way told us that asking for help meant weakness? Tired, worn out and frustrated mamas – this is for you.
Empty Plate . Full Heart 