Some Moms Light a Candle. Others are the Fire.

You carry motherhood differently than I do.
It weighs you differently than it weighs me.
It lifts you differently than it lifts me.
It causes you to have thoughts and words that it does not cause me.
It eats at your soul faster than it eats at mine.
My children met the milestones; you are still patiently waiting for your child to meet her milestones.

After teaching your children, listening to you, seeing you cry and reading your social media posts, on this Mother’s Day I want to give you the recognition you deserve and let you know: I see you.

I. See. You. You are not invisible to me.

I see you at church, struggling to be with God while the structure of the ceremony puts your child’s sensory system in disarray, making it nearly impossible for your child to pray with you. So you leave and no one offers to follow you.

I see you at the store, just trying to get in and get out quickly so your child doesn’t have to endure the countless stares from strangers. But, sometimes, you can’t move quickly enough. So, you hold your child and you endure the looks as well.

I see you at school, desperate for one staff member to recognize the brilliance in your child. So, you reinvent school. You show her talents to us all.

I see you at the doctor’s office, pleading because your “momma intuition” knows something is different. But, when you get the diagnosis, that pain goes deeper than you ever thought it could.

I see you at home. When my responsibilities are done and I sit with a glass of wine to end the day, I see you — still going, still moving, hooking up the machines and hoping your child dreams sweet dreams. Just in case he doesn’t, you sit beside him … all night.

I see you endure the harsh opinions of others.

I see you hurt when family and friends do not step up.

I see you tired.

And I see you persist. I see you try everything and anything to ease the difference your child feels. Drive to the next state for therapy, fly across the country for the best doctors, quit your job and go into debt in order to give your child the attention it takes to make progress. You even write a book to help others.

I see you thriving in a sometimes hard and cold space. I wonder what your secret is and I realize you have fire.

You have a fire within your soul that shows. No, not shows — SHINES. It lights you up. It is so white-hot, so bright, so blinding. So beautiful. You are fire moms. You are the moms who never stop burning for your children. You never stop trying, going, praying, working. You are the fire that carries your children forward. This type of mothering must be hard and exhausting, but it is one of the most beautiful, inspiring sights I have ever seen or ever will witness.

Sometimes the light emanating from you is blinding and I have to look away, but only for a moment. I will continue to raise my eyes toward your fire.

You are the moms who lead the rest of us — the ones who show us we can dig deeper, care more, do more, love more, fight more, be more.

You are a mother on fire for her child. You are an inspiration. Thank you for letting me see you.

Happy Mother’s Day.