To The Moms Who Close Their Eyes

A Mother's Day love note from my heart to yours.

To the moms who close their eyes—

I see you on the playground bench. Hand pressed to your chest, watching through squinted eyes as your toddler barrels toward the edge of what feels like too much. You bite your lip. You hold your breath. You let go, just enough. I see the way your eyes squeeze shut for a beat too long, the way your legs beg to run to them before your brain can get a grip. Because it’s your whole heart out there, running full speed in velcro sneakers.

I see you in the nursery glider at 2:07 a.m., surrounded by a lonely silence that somehow still buzzes, loud in its own way. Your shirt is stained with spit-up and breastmilk, your back aches from contorting your body *just so* and your baby is finally (finally) asleep. You close your eyes, praying for just a moment of rest. For strength. For a full night’s sleep you won’t get, but ask for anyway.

I see you at school drop-off, gripping the steering wheel as your child shuts the car door and walks hesitantly toward the school entrance. You wish you could be their shadow, protect them from anything that dares to cause them pain today. You close your eyes, praying that someone else’s “heart outside of their chest” will sit next to yours at lunch today with something kind to say.

I see you in the stands, on the sidelines, in the audience, outside their bedroom door—holding your breath during the big moments and all the little ones, too. You close your eyes when they fall, and open them to clap louder than anyone else. You cheer like it’s your own victory, because in a way, it is.

I see you as your almost-grown baby crosses a graduation stage, shakes a hand, reaches for a diploma. You close your eyes, envisioning their chubby fingers in yours just blinks ago. You see it all at once, like time folding in on itself, a million little moments in a flash.

To the moms who close their eyes—not because they aren’t watching, but because they feel it all too deeply to look straight on—I see you.

We love in a way that defies logic, full of courage and tenacity. We let go before we’re ready, wishing we could keep them wrapped safely in our love bubble forever. We ache and cheer and hope and release. And then, we open our eyes again to see our whole, magical, beautiful, brave child in front of us.

To the mothers who love bravely, whether it’s all you’ve ever wanted or a role you’ve had to stretch into—Happy Mother’s Day 🫶

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