With Halloween approaching, many don costumes and immerse themselves in a realm of imagination, pretending to be someone else. While this holiday is meant for enjoyment, for heart moms, it feels like Halloween every single day.
Why is that?
Because each day, we don a mask.
From the moment you learn your child will face significant challenges, you begin to refine that mask. Initially, it serves to protect you, shielding others from the intense fear and pain you experience. Over time, it transforms into your armor—something you wear to ease others’ discomfort, to convey that you’re okay even when you’re not. People expect you to be resilient, to bear the weight of uncertainty and anxiety with poise. Eventually, it becomes tiring to articulate how you truly feel. So, you pretend.
“You’re so brave!”
“You’re so strong!”
“You’re managing everything so well!”
Yet, deep down, you don’t feel brave or strong. You don’t believe you’re handling anything well. What you truly feel is an overwhelming exhaustion—one that a good night’s sleep won’t remedy, but rather a fatigue that seeps into your bones, making daily existence feel like an insurmountable challenge. But no one wants to hear that. No one is interested in the days you weep alone in your vehicle or the moments you curl up in a corner, yearning for relief from the burden.
So, you keep wearing your mask. You bury your anger, sadness, and guilt deep within, saving it for those rare instances when you’re alone and can finally remove the mask. When you can acknowledge, in solitude, that you’re not okay. When you don’t have to pretend to be the person everyone expects you to be.
Your grief, stress, anger, and sadness remain concealed behind that mask. It’s simple to smile and nod when someone inquires about your well-being. It’s easier to respond with, “I’m hanging in there” or “I’m doing okay.” But inside, you’re yearning to tear that mask off and release everything—expressing the overwhelming emotions you keep locked away. The tears shed in private, the sleepless nights, the constant anxiety, the fear that lingers.
But you don’t. You replace the mask, suppress everything, and carry on. Because that’s what you do. You are the medical mama. The heart mama. The angel mama. And you persist, even when it feels impossible.
This mask we wear daily isn’t merely a symbol of strength; it’s a representation of survival. It’s a shield we construct not just for ourselves but for those around us. Yet, it’s also burdensome. It weighs us down. At times, it feels as though it might suffocate us.
Yet, we wear it, day after day, because we have no alternative. We wear it for our children, for our families, for those who depend on us. We wear it because, even at our lowest, we somehow find the strength to continue. We keep pretending to be okay because it’s what the world anticipates, and it’s what we feel compelled to do to prevent everyone else from unraveling.
Perhaps one day, we’ll discover a place, a space, where we no longer need to wear the mask. Where we can be genuine, raw, and honest about our experiences. Until that time comes, we continue to don it, smiling through the pain, assuring the world we’re okay—because sometimes, that’s all we can manage.
To every heart mama, angel mama, and medical mama out there—know that you are seen. You are loved. You are stronger than you realize. And even if the world may never fully grasp the mask you wear, remember that you are not alone.
