Parenting
I apologize for my gaze at you in the grocery store this afternoon.
I didn’t intend to make you feel uneasy while you were checking out your cereal, diapers, and orange juice at the self-service kiosk. You were striking, with your long legs and flat stomach, dressed in spotless clothes. I envied your effortless beauty and perfection.
I apologize for my gaze at you during soccer practice this morning.
I wasn’t critiquing your tardiness or your exasperation with your kids as they spilled out of the minivan still in the process of getting dressed. I noticed the absence of your husband and wedding ring. I wished I could assist you, but I hesitated, not wanting to offend you while my seemingly perfect partner stood nearby. I admired your strength and how you managed everything when your supposed partner was absent—not just at soccer, but in your marriage and your children’s lives.
I apologize for my gaze at you in urgent care last week.
I wasn’t concerned about your child’s runny nose or cough being contagious—well, maybe a little. But mostly, I could see you had spent the night in worry, pacing, and comforting, beating yourself up for not leaving work earlier to take her to the pediatrician. I wanted to assure you, “It’s okay, you’re doing your best, and that’s enough for her.”
I apologize for my gaze at you in Babies ‘R’ Us yesterday.
I didn’t mean to come across as one of those people ready to inappropriately touch a stranger’s pregnant belly or offer unsolicited advice on diapers or homemade baby food. You reminded me of myself from six years ago, full of joy, discomfort, and a touch of fear. I wanted to tell you that peepee teepees are useless, but newborn mittens are essential. I wanted to advise you to save on the wipe warmer but invest in an organic crib mattress. Most importantly, I wanted to say, “You got this. Trust your instincts, love your child, and savor this time. Before you know it, you’ll be a seasoned pro, looking at a younger version of yourself and reminiscing about how exciting and daunting it all was.”
I apologize for my gaze at you in the park on Tuesday.
I didn’t mean to seem like one of those baby-snatching characters from a Lifetime movie. Rest assured, I have three of my own and couldn’t handle another. I simply longed for the days when I could focus all my attention on one child (thankfully, my husband understood that). I remember the overwhelming feelings of uncertainty. I wanted to tell you, “Relax, you’re doing great,” and perhaps add, “Enjoy this moment. It goes by so quickly,” though I know how frustrating it is when well-meaning parents say that.
I apologize for my gaze at you at the OB/GYN last month.
I didn’t mean to cause you pain when I instinctively clutched my round belly upon seeing the tears fall onto your crumpled ultrasound picture. I wanted to embrace you, letting your tears soak my T-shirt. I wanted to share, “I understand this hurt. I’ve been there. You will find peace again, and this too shall pass.”
I apologize for my gaze at you in the coffee shop this afternoon.
I didn’t intend to make you feel uncomfortable or older while you were enjoying coffee with your adult daughter. I wasn’t trying to interrupt what appeared to be a much-needed reunion. I admired the wisdom etched in the lines of your face, how comfortable you seemed in your own skin, and how you smiled at me even as I stared. I wondered about your life stories and hoped your daughter recognized the treasure she had in you, absorbing the lessons you had to share.
I apologize for my gaze at you in the living room this morning.
I didn’t mean to make you think I caught you doing something sneaky, like trimming the cat’s fur or raiding the Easter candy stash. I was simply appreciating how kind you are to your brother and marveling at your beautiful eyes. I remembered when you were small enough to fit inside my belly, and I was filled with pride for the incredible person you are and the incredible human you will become. I was just daydreaming about my hopes and dreams for you, feeling blessed to be your mother.
In conclusion, I apologize for my gaze. It’s born of admiration, nostalgia, and the overwhelming beauty of motherhood.
For more insights on parenting and fertility, check out resources like this one on pregnancy or explore fertility options at Make a Mom. If you’re interested in nursing, find more information at Nursing Supplementer.