Every Monday and Thursday at motherscope.com you will find a new story or poem written by one of our 31 regular contributors from around the world.
At Motherscope, we believe stories are unique and universal. Our mission is to democratize writing and storytelling by elevating the voices of mothers. We believe reading stories is a self-exploratory and unifying experience. When we receive and celebrate another mother's story, we become open to honoring our own.
These stories are here to keep you company, remind you you're never alone on this motherhood journey, and inspire you to take the time to write your own.
Dirt, Daylight and Duty
By Micah Klassen | from “Dirt” - Dim lights and damp floors / I see dirt in the carpet / Stress coils itself in my muscles / A python poised to squeeze / Low ceilings and dust — / Dust is my nemesis / I peer through the gloom, tired of / Fighting to find missing peace
Growing Things
By Micah Klassen | A number of weeks ago, my mother-in-law took the boys and me to a nursery to pick out some plants as a housewarming gift, and after arriving home, we spent the morning in the backyard (in the rain) slowly repotting flowers.
Love and Hope
By Micah Klassen | Tomorrow, our youngest son turns two. It’s Friday morning, February 24th and I’m in the shower trying to think through the small celebration we’ve planned for him with a few friends and family members at my in-laws’, but my mind keeps jumping to the footage I saw earlier of NICU newborns being cared for in a bomb shelter in the Ukraine.
Cinderella Syndrome
By Micah Klassen | A few weeks ago, during a text conversation with a Mom friend, I jokingly told her that she could call me “Cinderella”. We were updating each other on how our days were going and what part of the mothering routine we were wading through, and I was feeling pretty down about the fact that the boys and I would be stuck at home . . . again.
One Size Fits All
By Micah Klassen | “I love the trees, they’re so beautiful, I just want to hug them!” my eldest son exclaimed, his blue eyes sparkling with rapture beneath the red rim of his bicycle helmet. We were on our way home from the park and he was riding his little Strider bike a few paces behind me as I pushed his younger brother in the stroller. “You do?!” I laughed, turning for a moment to witness his delight