When You Feel Unseen in Motherhood

As a mom, a recent medical diagnosis for my college-age son, combined with the constant sprint of managing the details for my two teenagers, has threatened to take me under. In fact, I described my current season to a wise friend as a fight to stay above water. I feel as if I’m holding my family above the water line, making sure everyone has what they need, while I myself am drowning. 

I remember feeling similarly when my boys were young—when the days were slow and long, when they needed my constant attention and patient training, and when I spent so much time without adult conversation and uninterrupted sleep. 

At times, I’ve felt buried beneath the needs of my children and the thankless (and endless) tasks of motherhood. And in my resentment, I wonder, “Does anyone see?”

God does. And I’ve discovered that relating to God as The God Who Sees[1] offers us three invitations in motherhood:

An Invitation to Enjoy Lasting Rewards

When we feel unseen, there is, first, an invitation wrapped up in acknowledging it to ourselves—an invitation to examine our hearts. Are we expecting something from others—validation or approval—that they aren’t designed to give? Could we be looking to our husband or children or our role as a mom to give us the value or identity that only come from God? 

If so, we can repent and then remember there is a certain reward for those who serve for his eyes alone: 

“Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. Otherwise, you have no reward with your Father in heaven. So whenever you give to the poor, don’t sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be applauded by people. Truly I tell you, they have their reward. But when you give to the poor, don’t let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you” (Matt. 6:1–4).

God wants to give us something even better than a word of appreciation from those we serve. What is that reward? One day, when we stand face-to-face with Jesus, we will get to hear the sweetest words possible as the summary of our life: “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Matt. 25:23). Rather than a generic statement, he will say this with specifics in mind: “And whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is a disciple, truly I tell you, he will never lose his reward” (Matt. 10:42).

Jesus sees you repeatedly wipe that bottom in his name, and he sees you stay up late with your sick child. He sees how you set aside your agenda to give your undivided attention to your emotional teenager. For these things done for him and in his name, he says you will be rewarded with a reward you can’t lose. 

An Invitation to Current Joy 

But rewards aren’t just saved for later; there is a secret reward now, too.

Proverbs 11:25 says, “Whoever brings blessing will be enriched, and one who waters will himself be watered.” Scripture indicates that putting more emphasis on giving rather than receiving “waters” us in some way. I used to read that verse and think that if I served my family, they would serve me or thank me in return. I now understand this verse to mean that when we serve in unseen ways, we enjoy a specific happiness reserved for those who serve in Jesus’s name. Isn’t there a satisfaction we feel when we’re able to meet a need or give an encouraging word? 

That’s the watering Proverbs talks about—the joy of being used by God. And that’s the specific happiness of serving. Loving and serving our family in the name of Christ and for his eyes only triples the joy: our service is for the blessing of the ones we serve, it is a fragrant and pleasing aroma to God, and it produces in us the unique joy of having been a vessel to share Christ’s love.

Service is not valid only if it’s acknowledged and appreciated by the one served. Service is valid when it’s done in love and faith, in honor of Christ. 

And he always acknowledges it. Always. 

An Invitation to Obedience

Sometimes, however, unseen-ness is self-inflicted: we don’t ask our spouse or community for help when we truly need it because we don’t want to admit weakness. Or we mother as martyrs, rarely expecting our children to take on age-appropriate responsibilities and taking too much on ourselves. This is precisely the space where resentment builds—when we’re not honest with others about our legitimate needs or how a lack of expressed appreciation over an extended period of time has been hurtful.   

The God Who Sees doesn’t just meet us in private and bind up our wounds of feeling unseen. He also nudges us to obedience. Obedience may be repenting of outsize desires to be noticed and validated, but it also may involve initiating changes in our parenting, marriage, and friendships that right-size relational dynamics so we don’t feel consistently disregarded or taken advantage of. 

As I chatted with my friend about feeling like I was going under as I held my family safely above the water, I realized my obedience involved repentance. How telling that, in my analogy, I was holding the entire weight of my family and our difficult circumstances. I immediately saw my folly and repented of trying to play God. Rather than sinking, I am, in fact, being held by God as if in a life preserver bobbing on the water, and nothing escapes his notice. 

God sees. And that changes everything.

[1] Genesis 16:13