Dear mama,

I saw you the other day at Target juggling three young children—one on the side of your hip, another sitting in the shopping cart with a runny nose, and your oldest scooping boxes of Fruit Loops into the cart. Your hair was up in a ponytail and you wore your favorite yoga pants and rose gold Fitbit around your wrist. You appeared a bit frazzled as you looked at your phone marking off food items from your list and making sure they fit the budget—wanting to please your husband.

And I wanted to tell you this: the work you’re doing is sacrificial, but it’s still so very sacred. Never forget that.

Sure, you don’t get promotions, bonuses, affirmation or praise from your boss and co-workers in your role as mommy. But you’re shaping a life as you care for the body and soul of those little feet toddling across your hardwood floors and spilling Goldfish as he goes, one crunch at a time.

I see you when you’re up at night for the third time breastfeeding and bottle-feeding, calming your teething baby, and wiping mustard-colored diapers while your husband snores.

I understand your frustrations when your 3-year-old absolutely refuses to put her socks on before preschool and you’re muttering cuss words under your breath.

I know what it feels like to experience loneliness and just needing a friend to vent to who accepts your struggles with yelling and being “monster mom”.

I see how skilled you are in balancing your marriage, career, passions, and ensuring your kids are loved, clothed, and fed. It’s impressive!

I know how tempting it is to compare yourself to your friends’ blemish-free Facebook and Instagram feeds and how you sometimes don’t feel like you measure up.

But let me tell you—what you’re doing is enough.

I understand when you tell your husband he better be home on time so you don’t make the news.

On the day you gave birth to your child, I saw it all. In fact, I knew your child before you—creating each intricate body part and growing your baby those long nine months.

I saw how you labored. The pain, joy, anticipation, and your child’s first cry after the crowning and how you thanked me when it was over.

I want you to know that when no one else sees or acknowledges all the work you’ve done in the past and are doing today as mommy, I see it all and I think it’s beautiful, praiseworthy, and acceptable. 

When you serve your family, you serve me.

Always remember that you’re my child, too.

And I love you.

God