Hey Mama by Britnee Kellogg
There are songs that meet you where you are, and then there are songs that see who you’ve been becoming quietly, without applause. Hey Mama by Britnee Kellogg does the latter for me.
This song feels like a hand on my back during moments when no one else noticed how heavy everything was. It speaks to the kind of strength that doesn’t look like victory from the outside. The kind that looks like getting up anyway. Like choosing patience when you’re exhausted. Like loving fiercely even when you are running on empty.
Motherhood has been one of the most sacred and shattering experiences of my life. Not because it broke me, but because it required me to be more than I ever thought I could be, long before I felt ready. I didn’t just become a mother. I became a protector. A translator of emotions. A safe place. A constant.
This song reminds me that there were seasons when I carried everyone else while barely holding myself together. Seasons where survival masqueraded as strength. Where showing up was the only option, not because I was fearless, but because love demanded it.
Hey Mama doesn’t romanticize the struggle. It honors it. It recognizes the quiet heroism in the everyday moments that go unseen. The nights you cry in silence so your children don’t hear. The mornings you smile anyway. The way you keep choosing softness in a world that keeps asking you to harden.
For a long time, I didn’t know how to extend that same grace to myself. I measured my worth by what I gave, by how much I endured, by how little I asked for in return. This song gently reminds me that the woman who held everyone else deserved to be held too.
This is why it belongs on my healing soundtrack. Because healing isn’t just about recovering from what hurt you. It’s about finally acknowledging the strength it took to survive it. It’s about seeing yourself clearly, not as broken, but as brave.
This song is for the version of me who wondered if she was doing enough.
For the mother who doubted herself while still showing up every single day.
For the woman learning that rest is not weakness and self-compassion is not selfish.
I am still rising.
But I rise now with tenderness, not tension.
With truth, not fear.
And this song reminds me that I always have.
