Hey there, I see you. And yes, I’m judging—maybe not in the harshest way, but I’m noticing the little things you do as a parent.
Like when you grasp your son’s hand in the parking lot, and he squirms like a fish trying to break free. You lift him into the air, and even though you’re likely worn out from chasing after this mini whirlwind, you flip him upside down and tickle his tummy until his laughter echoes. It’s contagious, isn’t it?
I recognize you. You might juggle a career or choose to stay at home—who knows? You often reassure yourself that your kids will turn out just fine, yet there’s that nagging doubt in the back of your mind.
Watching you, I see you kneel down and gently hold your daughter’s chin, compelling her to look you in the eyes. You’re outside an ice cream shop, frustrated because she just smacked her sister. Yet, you speak softly, making sure she feels secure. You might want to shout, “I just don’t want to raise a little monster!” but I know you hold that back.
You look weary sometimes, glancing around as if you’re surprised by the small army of kids who rush towards you, claiming you as their mom. They’re loud, sticky, and demanding, yet I can see you pour every ounce of love into them.
I notice the way you wipe away tears from your little girl’s cheeks after she takes a tumble—running too fast and hitting a rock. She looks at you right after her fall, knowing you’ll be there. You manage to keep your composure, knowing that your reaction will set the tone for her own.
The love you have for your son is evident as he climbs onto your lap, resting his hand on your cheek, just wanting your attention. You pause your chat with a friend, and the shift in your expression shows how much he means to you—it’s a love that’s beyond words.
In the car, when your daughter cries because the sun is too bright, you quickly remove your sunglasses and hand them to her. Such a simple gesture, yet it speaks volumes about your care.
I see you at the playground, snapping photos of those adorable moments, and then checking your phone—just a brief interaction with the outside world. I noticed how someone without kids told you to cherish every moment, while glaring at your device. If only you could trip them, right?
But I can also see the weight you carry. The self-doubt that creeps in daily—“Am I doing enough? Are they normal? Have I messed them up?” And if only you could truly see yourself, you would recognize that yes, you are enough.
If you’re looking for support along your parenting journey, check out this other blog post that provides insightful tips. And if you’re considering home insemination options, Make A Mom offers reputable kits for at-home use. For more information on fertility and pregnancy, Cleveland Clinic’s podcast is an excellent resource.
In summary, I see you, and while I may be judging, it’s a judgment filled with understanding and compassion. You are doing an incredible job, even on the days you doubt it.
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