Between Bruises and Blooms

I don’t have the luxury of calling in sick.

The babies still wake. The dogs still wait. The dishes still multiply like they don’t know I’m struggling to breathe.

So I make another coffee. Take another dose of medicine. Blow my nose. Wash another bottle.

Motherhood has taught me that strength isn’t always loud.

Sometimes, it’s simply showing up with a box of tissues in one hand and a baby in the other.

Healing isn’t always found in bed.
Sometimes, it looks like surviving the day one sneeze, one cuddle, one tiny laugh at a time.

And if that’s all I do today—
that is enough.