There are words that carry their own weight, that hold an ancient wisdom. Like the word mother. It is not a role, nor a job, not even a full-time one. It is not a healthy way of being in the world that eats voraciously your body, settles in the stomach and hands, stretches time within time. There is something extreme in that condition. I long for a lighter word for that name I love and can barely hold. And yet, that word has been my greatest school. Children are the only teachers who never give up.

In this luminous and courageous collection of reflections, Cristina Domenech explores the raw and transformative space where motherhood, writing, and identity intersect. With poetic intensity and emotional precision, she invites us into a world where language becomes both refuge and rebellion, and where each word can undo or remake a life in the wake of tragedy. Here, poetry is not merely expression: it is survival. This is not a manual on how to be a mother; it is an act of resistance and tenderness, written from the edge of the body and the page. A book for those who live between silence and the need to survive, despite it all.