Motherscope | January 2022
Motherscope LLC | San Diego, CA motherscope.com Cover Illustration by Alexandra Harvey | Mothershaped The Mom Salon logo by Samantha Acker | Gemini Designs Copyright © 2021 by Motherscope LLC and the individual contributors. All rights reserved. Leonard, Jackie (editor) The Mom Salon | January 2022 The Mom Salon features the writings of Motherscope’s 2021 Contributors, appearing in rotation from Mar. 2021 through Feb. 2022: Kate Bailey, Eunice Brownlee, Kelsey Cichoski, Laci Hoyt, Micah Klassen, Shanthy Milne, Alyssa Nutile, Holly Ruskin, Kaitlin Solimine, Colleen Tirtirian, Megan Vos, Melaina Williams
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In This Month’s Mom Salon: Kelsey Cichoski | Reflections from a Photo
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Shanthy Milne | Mother-Writer
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Kate Bailey | To Whom Falls in Love with My Daughter
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Eunice Brownlee | The Little Things
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Reflections from a Photo By Kelsey Cichoski There’s a photo of my husband and I that comes across my phone’s suggested photo section somewhat frequently. It was only taken a few years ago, but we both seem to look much younger then. Every time it comes across the screen of my phone my husband says, “Now there’s a couple that thought they were at the end of their struggles.” I chuckle, but then acknowledge that it’s true. We had foster kids in our home at the time this picture was taken, and I wanted them to have some nice photos of them together during this time. We had also recently lost our first baby unexpectedly. I had felt an importance of capturing this time when everything seemed to feel so raw and tender. On this day, I smiled as the boys giggled and posed as their pictures were taken. I was happy to get a few pictures of my husband and I together as well. I wondered if people would be able to tell I had recently been pregnant when the picture was taken. Would it be possible to tell that my necklace said “Always” on it? If so, would anyone realize it was in honor of our baby boy? How I wished he could have been in those pictures with us. In some ways my husband was right. We had just been through such a hard experience. Why would we think that more hard things would be coming our way? Our baby wasn’t with us. The grief was heavy. We were full of pain and felt completely broken. We thought we had made it to the end of our hard times. When I look at that familiar photo, I think of the timeline in my mind. I say to myself, “That was right after my baby died, and right before my cancer diagnosis.” I hardly recognize who I see there. So much has happened since then. Time stands still as I let my mind wander for a few minutes looking at that
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picture. I felt such complexity in motherhood at the time. I was helping raise someone else’s boys, but I didn’t get to keep my own. I felt fulfilled in helping these siblings stay together during a time it was needed for them. I also felt angry in not being able to bring my own son home to be with us. Being a mom, as it turns out, can feel very complicated. Above all, I remember the heaviness and pain I was feeling. I wanted to keep going for our foster boys. I wanted to be everything they needed. At the same time, I wanted rest. I wanted to heal. My heart was so torn, so hurt. Months later, the boys were reunified with their family. The rest I longed for was not nearby, as I received a cancer diagnosis shortly after they moved. I was in shock and disbelief. This was not the time for a break from hard things, this was time to fight. I went through a grueling chemotherapy regimen to rid my body of disease. It was successful and I am now gratefully in remission from cancer. My perspective of that time has increased since then, as often happens with time. As that photo continues to pop up on my phone, my reflections continue as well. That woman who was so broken, was not too broken to fight for herself. That woman who wasn’t sure if she had any more to give, was able to give everything to stay with her family. During my hardest days, people would tell me how strong I was. “No,” I would respond, “I’m very broken. I just have to keep going.” I meant that. I wasn’t strong. I was so very tired. I look at that picture now and realize that maybe I actually was strong. Because I didn’t give up. And when I thought my fight was over, I kept fighting. If I had seen that strength inside of myself, I wonder if anything would have changed. Maybe not, as I took time to mourn the loss of our son. But maybe it would have helped to know that I had it in me. It might have helped to know that I had the strength to make it through. I look at other pictures on my camera roll. I have a daughter that is one now, and so many of our pictures are full of joy. We’re smiling, playing, and being silly together. I wonder what these pictures will come to mean to me. As my perspective of these photos expands through time, what will I come to understand about where we are now? When I see a tired mom
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