This month, when Mother's Day is celebrated in some countries, I want to express my feelings and what's in my heart. It's not about judging anyone, far from it… but we must consider that those of us who were absent at some point, and those who were completely absent, have reasons that no one else can understand or should try to explain.

I got divorced when I was pregnant with my second child, and I had to raise them alone, as is the case for many women. Although I was always there for them, I had to work abroad and return every weekend to fulfill my responsibilities because what mattered most to me at that time was giving them everything and more… but I had, or as some readers might say, we had  Missing some soccer games or school presentations. There are hugs we owe, kisses we never got to give at night, and guilt that still weighs heavily on our chests. All of this happened not because we didn't love, but because we couldn't be there. Being an absent mother wasn't always a choice. Sometimes it was the only way to survive, to support, to care from afar. And that hurts too.

There are stories that cannot be captured by a superficial judgment. Behind every mother who was absent, there are tears and countless battles that went unseen: grueling work from dawn till dusk, silent illnesses, unhealed childhood wounds, or difficult decisions made with heavy hearts, and in some of us, profound loneliness… a loneliness that hurts.

But absence leaves its mark. In children, it leaves questions: Why wasn't he there? Why did he choose the wrong father? And even though they understand now as adults, if they asked those questions at the time—in us mothers, it leaves long silences and questions like this: Was I enough? Did I do it right? Did I fail?

 Today I write for myself and for you, brave woman, who at some point was a partially or totally absent mother. Not to judge you, but to tell you that you can still be here. That there is still room to rebuild, to heal, to ask for forgiveness if necessary, to lovingly explain what you couldn't say before.

Your children may not need perfect explanations. They just need to see you sincere, vulnerable, and available. Because there's nothing more healing than a mother who dares to look them in the eye and say, "I wasn't there because I wanted you to have everything you needed. Now that you're an adult, let me be with you."  to be by your side”

 Motherhood doesn't end when children grow up. There's always time to laugh together, to talk without rushing, to hug without explanation. An absent mother can return again and again. And her return can be the best part of the story.

My Reflection

Sometimes, motherhood demands absences that the heart does not approve of, but the soul remembers that we can always return, heal and start again.

From the desk of Carmen Portillo , image consultant

@blissbycarmen