“Mom, watch. Mom! Watch!”

I turn away from the onion I’m chopping. “Yes sweetie. I’m watching.” And my 6-year-old son executes a twisting “pirouette” that resembles someone slipping on a banana. Then he looks up at me and beams with pride.

“Did you see?” he asks triumphantly.

“Yes, sweetie. I saw. It was wonderful!”

This scene played itself out in my home for years and years…as moms, we spend our days watching. We praise indecipherable art. We applaud awkward dancing. We cheer off-key singing. We watch. We witness.

We martyr.

Martyr literally translates as “witness.” It comes from Latin and dates to the early Christians who claimed to have witnessed the risen Jesus. What a perfect word for motherhood. Witnessing-the martyrdom of mom–is such an essential act. I would like to reclaim the word martyr and remove its negative connotation. Children have to be seen, to be witnessed.

My clients crave this, too. So often, at some deep level we have not been witnessed. No on has martyred for us. As a therapist, my first act is to Witness you, to see you deeply, without judgement. That sort of witnessing has the power to transform. It’s the first step in healing.