Mama Tried: A Letter to My Kids About Love, Mistakes, and Resilience

To My Kids,

One day, you’ll be adults, and I hope you find this letter. Today, you’re more excited about gymnastics lessons and who’s winning in Fortnite than anything I write, and I love that about you. I love watching you fully immersed in the joy of being young.

Right now, you both remind me of baby deer in the woods—wide-eyed, full of potential, and a little bit awkward. I already see glimpses of the incredible people you’re going to become, but you’re still learning how to find your footing. You take careful, uncertain steps, testing the ground beneath you as you figure out how to move forward. And every day, I’m reminded of how much work it takes to create a truly loving and safe environment for you.

And I have to be honest—I didn’t always get it right.

Parenting is humbling. You start out thinking you’re going to do things better than what you had. And then one day, you realize you just messed it up in a different way. I had enough self-awareness to avoid someone else’s mistakes, but not quite enough to avoid my own.

And for that, I’m sorry.

But here’s the thing I want you to know: even in my missteps, I believed I was doing the right thing. Everything I did came from a place of love for you. I have always loved you with all my heart, and I hope that’s something you’ve felt every step of the way.

Your childhood wasn’t (isn’t) perfect. There were moments of pain—some caused by life, and some caused by me. Divorce is one of the hardest things I’ve ever faced, and I know it reshaped your lives in ways you never asked for and may not fully understand yet. I carry that with me every day.

But here’s the truth: as much as I wish I wasn’t part of the pain machine that teaches you life’s lessons, I know I am. Pain is an unavoidable part of life—it shapes you, strengthens you, and prepares you for the world. And yet, I wish I could simply step back and be your guide, showing you how to navigate the mess without being a part of it. That’s not how life works either. My failures, as much as I hate them, are part of the story that helps you grow.

Life is messy and complicated and hard. Being human means getting it wrong sometimes, and that’s okay. What matters is being willing to sit in the mess, be present, and own your role in the story. That’s what I’ve tried to do. That’s what I hope I’ve taught you.

One day, you’ll be out in the world, living a life I can only imagine. Maybe you’ll be building a home and a family that feels like a true sanctuary, where love flows freely, communication is honest, discipline is steady, and every relationship feels safe. Maybe you’ll be living in a vibrant city or a breathtakingly beautiful place, pursuing a career that excites you and fills your days with purpose. Or perhaps you’ll be chasing adventures that make your soul come alive, following the call of something wild and wonderful that only you can hear.

Wherever you are, I hope you scratch that itch in your soul and find the life that lights you up.

I also hope you’ll carry with you the tools to process life in a way that doesn’t feel so overwhelming. I hope I’ve helped you build resilience, so that when life drags you into the inevitable ditches, you know how to climb out. And if you ever find yourself stuck, I want you to know you can always call me. I’ll be there—with love, with a shovel, and with all the time you need to figure things out.

Parenting isn’t about being perfect. It’s about showing up, owning your mistakes, and keeping love at the center of everything. That’s the example I hope I’ve set for you: to fail and keep going, to love fiercely even when it’s messy, and to always apologize when it’s needed. Never hesitate to come to me for an apology—you deserve it, and I will always be happy to give it.

I want you to know that I tried.

That I am still trying.

And I will never stop trying to get this right.

I love you, and I hope my love is felt by you deeply.

With every bit of my imperfect heart,

Mom

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Dear friends,

It means everything to me that you’re here. Writing is not only my work—it’s my way of connecting with you, and I’m deeply grateful for that. I’ll always keep my words open and accessible because encouragement should never come with a price tag.

For those of you who choose to support this work financially, thank you for keeping the lights on. FOR REAL. It is so appreciated.

With love and gratitude,

Mary Katherine