The stranger who saw me

This is what supporting a mother looks like.

A complete stranger seeing my exhaustion, picking up the children’s toys from underneath the chairs and bringing them back to me, without waiting to see me struggling, or me having to politely ask.

A completely new set of hands, bringing me water from the dispenser, without knowing how parched I was or how long I had been without eating or drinking a single thing.⠀

A completely refreshing approach taken by someone I didn’t expect, asking if she could help me by trying to get my fussy eight month old baby to sleep so I could have a much needed break, or nap, or in her words “anything I needed”.

I needed her more than she will ever know that night.

And it was more than the physical help our situation screamed for.

It was about feeling seen.

Because I was more than the mother who didn’t have things under control.

I was more than the mother on the floor trying to rest her eyes with two children crawling all over her at 2.00am at the ferry terminal which was very delayed, after hours in the car beforehand and hours in the car still to come.

I was more than the mother who could only just continue to cope, not conquer.⠀

I was a person.

A person who needed a hand.

And she saw that.

She was a stranger, but she got my baby who normally needs me and only me to help him to sleep, to do so on her own.

He stayed asleep on her for half an hour.

And I did nothing other than watch them in front of me in peace, eyes open but arms resting.

She was a stranger, but she was the silver lining that night.

She lightened the load.

She breathed life into me.

She kept me going.⠀

And even though I now only have her name and this photo, I’ll never forget her.

She was the stranger who saw me.