Parenting
I apologize for gazing at you in the grocery store earlier today. I didn’t intend to make you feel uneasy as you scanned your cereal, diapers, and orange juice at the self-checkout. You were simply stunning, with your impossibly long legs and flat belly, dressed in unblemished clothes. I found myself wishing to be you: effortless, beautiful, flawless.
I’m sorry for observing you at soccer practice this morning. I wasn’t critiquing you for arriving late or for snapping at your kids as they spilled out of the minivan, half-dressed. I noticed that your husband and wedding ring were absent. I wanted to help, but I didn’t know how to approach you without risking offense, especially with my own ideal husband nearby. I was in awe of your resilience as you took on responsibilities when your partner was MIA—not just at soccer, but in your marriage and your children’s lives.
I’m sorry for watching you at urgent care last week. I wasn’t concerned that your child’s runny nose or cough might be contagious—well, maybe a little. Mostly, I could see you had been awake all night, waiting, worrying, and comforting while feeling guilty for not taking her to the pediatrician during regular hours. I just wanted to reassure you, “It’s okay, you’re doing your best, and that’s sufficient for her.”
I apologize for staring at you in Babies ‘R’ Us yesterday. I didn’t mean to be that person who gets too close to a stranger’s pregnant belly or bombards you with unsolicited advice about diapers and homemade baby food. You reminded me of myself six years ago, and I could see the joy, discomfort, and a hint of trepidation on your face. I wanted to tell you that peepee teepees don’t work, but those tiny newborn mittens are essential. I wanted to say to skip the wipe warmer but invest in an organic crib mattress. Most importantly, I wanted to assure you, “You’ve got this. Trust your instincts, love your baby, and cherish this time. Before you know it, you’ll be a seasoned pro, gazing at a younger version of yourself and reminiscing about how thrilling and frightening it all was.”
I’m sorry for observing you at the park on Tuesday. I didn’t mean to come across as someone who might snatch a baby like in a Lifetime movie. Don’t worry, I have three of my own and couldn’t possibly manage another. I simply missed those moments when I could devote my full attention to one child, and thankfully my husband understood. I recalled the overwhelming nature of those early days when I was uncertain about everything but took on my new role as seriously as a White House security detail. I wanted to say, “Relax, you’re doing wonderfully.” I even thought about telling you to savor this time, as it flies by, but I know how much it annoys me when well-meaning moms say that, even if they are right.
I’m sorry for staring at you in the OB/GYN office last month. I didn’t mean to hurt you when I instinctively clutched my large pregnant belly upon seeing the tears stream down your face, soaking the ultrasound photo in your lap. I just wanted to wrap my arms around you and let your tears dampen my shirt. I wanted to say, “I understand how painful this is. I’ve been there. You want answers, and remember, ‘this too shall pass.’”
I’m sorry for gazing at you in the coffee shop this afternoon. I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward or older while you were enjoying coffee with your grown daughter. I didn’t intend to distract you from what seemed like a long-overdue catch-up. I was simply admiring the wisdom and confidence etched in the delicate lines of your face, how at ease you appeared in your own skin and cozy cardigan. You smiled at me, even as my 20-yard stare turned intrusive. I wondered about your life story and the lessons you must have learned. I hoped your daughter recognized the gift of having you there and the valuable insights she could gain by listening to your words. I wished she would appreciate the simplicity, truth, and love behind your wisdom and remember to thank you before it’s too late.
I’m sorry for gazing at you in the living room this morning. I didn’t want you to think I caught you in the act of trimming the cat’s fur or raiding the Halloween candy stash—okay, the Easter candy stash. I was simply in awe of your kindness towards your brother and the beauty of your eyes. I admired how you were once small enough to fit inside my belly. I thought about how you possess your father’s generous heart and my stubborn determination. I was reflecting on how proud I am of you and how both excited and terrified I feel watching you grow every day. I was daydreaming about the remarkable person you are and the incredible journey that lies ahead, and I felt so fortunate to know you, let alone call you my daughter.
This piece was originally published on June 26, 2014.
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In summary, this article captures the heartfelt apologies of a mother who reflects on the moments when she found herself gazing at other mothers, recognizing their struggles, strengths, and experiences that resonate deeply with her own journey through parenting.