They don’t say thank you

 They don’t say thank you.

Not for the midnight wakes.
Not for the way you cut the crusts.
Not for the 14th snack you handed out today.

They don’t clap when you regulate yourself so you can regulate them.
They don’t see the mental checklist running in your head.

But they feel you.

They feel the consistency.
They feel the calm you fight to become.
They feel the way you come back after hard moments instead of walking away.

One day they’ll have the words.

But right now?

They show it in the way they reach.
The way they melt into you.
The way they look for your face when something feels big.

Motherhood feels invisible.

It isn’t.

It’s being written into their nervous system in real time.

You are not unseen.