To the mom in the dentist’s waiting room this morning. As you held your one month baby in your lap and your rambunctious toddler circled the room with ever increasing energy, I wonder if you felt invisible. Every person who passed, including me, commented on the adorableness of your baby. As you sat there answering yet again the repetitive question: “How old?”, did you wonder if anyone’s eyes saw you?

I saw you. I saw the tiredness in your face, and heard the frustration in your voice as the appointment dragged out for longer than expected. 

I saw you. I saw when you reached your emotional limit and tried to instinctively protect yourself by deferring the important decision that needed to be made about your son’s tooth to your husband, adamantly refusing to take part. I saw you, not because I judged you, but because in that moment I knew what you felt, because I have felt it too. 

I see you. Just one month from the labor and delivery of your child, learning to add another little one to a household that already requires so much from you, you must be exhausted. You must feel so close to your limit every single minute of every day. I see you.

I see the power you hold without always wanting to, the power of motherhood. Those dentists kept coming to run things by you even after you told them to talk to your husband because they sensed that power and respected it. I know you probably in that moment wanted someone, anyone, to see your pain, your cry for help, and to realize that you just wanted to give up, even though you knew you couldn’t. I see you. I see your pain. I heard your cry for help.

I didn’t give you any words to show you that I saw. I wasn’t sure if you would welcome me stepping into your world. And I didn’t know what to say anyway. But I wish that you knew. Knew that this morning I saw you and you made sense to me. I wish you knew that sitting in a doctor’s waiting room with your child feels so mundane, and yet I believe it is one of the most self-sacrificial ways in which you can love your child. As you sit there, watching the minutes of your precious life tick by, you are giving a part of yourself to your child’s wellbeing. It will often take mental, emotional, and sometimes even physical strength that many people will underestimate. You will make so many decisions every single day, whether in or out of a doctor’s office that affect your children’s health and wellness. Each of those decisions takes something from you. And it will often feel like that sacrifice is not visible or appreciated. And so, I hope you know that this morning, I saw it. And I valued it. And I honored it.

You are strong and resilient, even though you do not feel like it on this day. Every single day that you are a parent is a day in which you are growing ever stronger, ever more skilled, and ever more resilient. But every day is also a day that has the potential to drain you more than you ever imagined possible. You will be tested to your limits and then past them, day in and day out, and you will sometimes wonder if it is worth it. You are not just a mom, but I know that in these first years of parenthood, you will feel like you disappear behind your children. And so, I really wish I had told you today that I saw you.