I reached out to you today because I was feeling overwhelmed. Without hesitation, you agreed to come over as soon as you finished your laundry. You joined me and the boys for lunch, and just having you there instantly calmed me. Why do I feel so secure when you’re around?
At 31, I still sometimes crave the comfort of running to you. You always know the right words to ease my worries. You’re the only one who hears the unspoken thoughts and sees the parts of me I try to keep hidden.
I feel like I’m finally stepping into your shoes. In my toughest moments, I realize that this is what you did for me. Some days, it feels like no one hears my voice or acknowledges my contributions. I give endlessly and still feel the pressure to give more, often unnoticed. My partner unintentionally makes me feel like my efforts don’t matter as much as his because, at the end of the day, I have nothing tangible to show for my work. The house remains untidy, the sink fills up again, and the bathroom floor is drenched with wet towels. Sometimes, I struggle to remember what I accomplished during the day.
Yet, I often feel like you’re the only one who truly sees me. You understand the depths of my sacrifices and love. I think back to how you always gave your all to me. I remember you saving the grapes for me so that my brother could enjoy them, too. I don’t even know if you liked grapes, but you never ate them, and I assumed it was because you wanted me to have them. Even now, you insist that I take the last of whatever is left; you say you don’t need it. I believed you until I became a mother myself. Now, I understand that you were giving it up for me, even if you desired it yourself.
In those moments of selflessness, I realize how much you still sacrifice for me. My days are filled with listening to everyone else’s stories, celebrating their accomplishments. I observe Lego castles being built, jumps off steps, and karate kicks soaring high. I watch as trees are climbed and slides are conquered in unconventional ways. I’m constantly asked to pay attention to what everyone else does, and when night falls and everyone’s finally asleep, I get a fleeting moment to remember who I am.
Sometimes, I find myself treating you the same way. I call, eager to share all the details of my life, wanting you to hear my excitement. You listen with such attention and enthusiasm that it makes me feel special—something I often overlook. After our conversations, I realize I rarely ask how you’re doing.
You provide me with a safe haven. You mother me in ways I don’t always recognize. You make me feel cherished and understood, especially during times when I often come last. I’ve come to appreciate what it means to be the anchor for someone else.
I once thought I had outgrown my need for you, believing I was charting my own unique path. Yet, you’ve always been there, quietly supporting me, ready to help me rise after every fall, just as you did when I was a child. Words like “thank you” hardly capture my gratitude, but I want you to know I finally see you. I see you in every moment, from my darkest days to the blissful times spent looking into my children’s faces. I recognize your sacrifices and the immense love you’ve shown. I finally see you, Mom.
For more insights on the journey of parenting and family life, check out our other blog post here. If you’re exploring at-home insemination options, I recommend visiting Make A Mom for their reliable insemination syringe kits. Additionally, you can find valuable information on pregnancy and home insemination at the CDC’s resource page.
In summary, this heartfelt reflection highlights the deep connection between a mother and daughter, revealing the sacrifices made and the understanding gained through the lens of motherhood.
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