Three Words Younger Moms Need to Hear from Older Moms

It was just a small moment in life. I was wrapping up the second trimester, there was the stress and busyness of the holidays, and I was also keeping up with a toddler, a preschooler, and a first grader. At one of our family gatherings, I just sat down to rest a few minutes.

My grandpa’s girlfriend/ladyfriend/companion (what’s the best word for this?) walked by and put her hand gently on my shoulder. “You look tired…”

I sighed. I knew.

“You look tired. I remember that.”

Relief washed over me. When you’re pregnant, it seems like everyone is full of advice. Whether at a restaurant or Costco or the garden center, there are a lot of well-meaning people with a lot of opinions on what you should be eating, what size you should be, what gender the baby is, or what you should do about how tired you are.

But she didn’t do that. This was exactly what I needed to hear right then, and it took me a while to realize why it meant so much to me.

First, she acknowledged the reality of the situation. I looked tired. I was tired. I was pregnant with a bunch of kids at the holidays, so it was no surprise. There was no “You look amazing and glowing!” fluff.

This is not offensive. It’s refreshing. Let’s be real. Pregnancy is hard and exhausting, especially when you have one or more kids already. Telling a random lady in the store that she looks tired is certainly unwelcome, but a gentle observation from someone close is a sign of openness and authenticity.

Then, after acknowledging my current state of being, she showed empathy without trouble-shooting my situation. “I remember that.” is a meaningful phrase because it tells me I’m not crazy. It tells me I’m not alone. It reminds me I’m part of the miracle of motherhood that has taken place generation after generation after generation.

It seems like some older generations tend to gloss over the hard times of childbearing and childrearing. Like their memories are rosy clouds of storytimes and snuggles and holiday joy. Those are amazing, heart-warming parts of parenting, but that’s an incomplete picture.

I want to be around older women who remember the door slams, the grocery store meltdowns, the sleepless nights, the sibling bickering, the long days.

Because “I remember that.” means “I survived that.” which means I will, too.

As my kids get older, as I get rid of the baby stuff, as my stages are progressing, I want to be a mom who puts an arm around another mom (literally or metaphorically), sees her right where she is, and says, “I remember that.”