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You woke up tired again, before the sun, before the alarm, before your own dreams had finished. And still you made lunches, found the missing shoe, wiped tears, and whispered “you’ve got this” while helping a child who will never know how often you weren’t sure you did.

You are the unpaid Uber driver at 8 pm and 10 pm, the walking ATM with a heart, the chef who cooks three different meals so everyone eats something, the coach, the nurse, the counselor, the one who remembers the dentist appointment and the permission slip and the birthday gift for the party Saturday.

You have cried in the car after drop-off, after the fight, after the diagnosis, after the “I hate you.” And five minutes later you walked back in with a smile because they needed to believe the world is still safe.

You have held vomiting children at 2 am, sat through recitals where your kid was a tree, worked double shifts so they could play travel ball, and learned every TikTok dance just to make them laugh.

You have googled “is this normal?” more times than you’ll ever admit. You have prayed over fevers, over report cards, over first breakups, and first drives alone.

You are the safe place when the world feels too sharp. You are the loudest voice in the stands and the softest voice at bedtime.

You will never be paid for the nights you stayed awake listening to them breathe, for the dreams you postponed so theirs could come true, for the pieces of your heart walking around outside your body in shoes that keep getting bigger.

But listen: Every time you chose love over being right, presence over perfection, hugs over hurry, you built a childhood someone will spend the rest of their life trying to repay.

You are not perfect. You never had to be. You just had to keep showing up, keep loving through the mess, keep believing in them even when they stopped believing in themselves.

And you have. Every single day.

So tonight, when the house is finally quiet and your body aches and your bank account is empty and your newsfeed is full of perfect parents who are definitely lying, hear this instead:

You are the reason a small human believes the world is good. You are the first love story they will ever know. You are the living proof that they are worth fighting for.

Mom. Dad. You are doing holy, heart-breaking, world-changing work.

Thank you for every packed lunch, every bedtime story, every “one more hug,” every ordinary, extraordinary moment of your love.

The children you are raising will one day raise the future with the same fierce tenderness you showed them.

And that is how the whole world gets saved, one tired, loving, beautiful parent at a time.

We see you. We honor you. We are in awe of you.

With tears and endless gratitude,.Wendy Stone, RN, PsyD (a daughter who still remembers every sacrifice and every “I love you”)