I glanced at my lit-up phone and smiled. My mom, who lived a few states away, had sent an all-too-familiar text: You okay?

Since I was in a Bible study, I hastily texted back a thumbs-up emoji. But even after I slid my phone into my purse, my mind dwelled on that message–one I had probably received a thousand different times from my mom. Why does she always ask if I’m okay? 

At that time, I was a single, childless, fiercely independent 20-year-old. So sometimes, I had to admit that those check-in texts from my mom would fill me with annoyance. I would fight the urge to text back, “Of course I am, Mom.” Or “I just talked to you last night!” or “I’m very capable. Please don’t worry about me.”

It wasn’t until five years later that I began to understand. By then, I was married, sitting at our wooden dinner table across from my cute husband of only two years. My stomach was gently bumping the edge of the table, 30 weeks into my first pregnancy—a baby boy.

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As I twirled spaghetti around my fork, I explained my latest anxiety to my husband. “I haven’t felt the baby move all day. And he barely moved last night.”

My husband furrowed his brows and tried to reassure me with logic, “Didn’t your doctor say it’s normal for the kicks to start to slow down around this time?”

“Yes. But I’m still worried. I wonder if I should call the doctor,” I stared at my fork, the pale noodles twirled around it.

“Have you eaten much today?” My husband asked, gesturing to my plate. I admitted that I hadn’t and started to slowly chew the food, deep in thought.

A few minutes later, it happened. A little kick. On the left side of my abdomen. Clank. I dropped my fork, and my eyes filled with tears. “I felt him! He’s okay! I felt his kick!”

Later that night, my phone lit up with another “You okay?” text from my mom. As I stared at the blue text bubble, I realized I finally understood. Moms worry. It’s what we do. We clean, we chauffeur, we wipe faces, and we worry.

And when there happens to be an extended amount of time when we don’t hear from our kids—when the baby in our womb is napping, our newborn sleeps longer than usual, our toddler is playing a little too quietly, or we haven’t talked to our grown child in awhile—our anxieties start to ramp up.

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But here’s the thing, just as quickly as our mind fills with anxiety, we can get it to simmer down if we can get one moment of reassurance. So we eat, drink orange juice, or sip coffee, hoping to feel some movement in our pregnant stomachs.

We slide open our baby’s nursery door, watching their tiny chest move up and down, just to make sure they are still breathing.

We jump out of the shower, slipping and sliding across the bathroom floor, just to get eyes on our too-quiet toddler to make sure they are okay.

And yes, we text adult children (sometimes during their Bible studies) to ask, “You okay?”

So to that teenage or adult child who is slightly annoyed by the “You okay?” text, please understand. We don’t need a long response. We’re not trying to be nosy or asking for every detail about your life. We’re just worried moms who love you more than life itself. And all we moms need is a little kick.