mine never did

Your baby kept you up all night, or woke you up six times. You're tired. You're grumpy. You have a full day today, and last night didn't go like you wanted it to. I want to say that I get it, but I don't. I don't know what it's like to hear your baby cry. Mine never did.

Your child won't stop nagging you, "Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy." You have things to get done. Dishes to wash, clothes to fold, and hearing your name called for the thirty-ninth time in the last sixty seconds is too much. You snap. I want to tell you that it annoys me too, but I can't. I don't know what it's like to hear your baby call your name. I don't know what it's like to hear your baby speak at all. Mine never did.

I'm listening, moms. I hear you. It isn't roses and kittens to raise a baby. It isn't always fun, or happy, or desirable, but hear me too. My son never opened his eyes and looked at me. He never wiggled in my arms. He never made a mess, or colored on my walls with crayons. He never disobeyed, or threw a fit, or kept me up all night. I hear you complaining. I nod along. It'd be rude for me to shush you.

I want to share with you the annoyance caused by the life your child lives. I want to say, "Oh, I know! I hate it when my son ______." but I can't, because mine never did.

In fact, the problem you're complaining about sounds to me like the most beautiful privilege on earth.

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