I see you. I know you, and I know you struggle. I know you've made sacrifices others can't imagine. I know recognition hardly comes your way. I know you hurt almost as much as you feel joy. I know you have faced decisions in your mid-twenties some people don't face in a lifetime. I know these things because I am your sister: a slightly varied, childless version of you. I grew up watching you and loving you, and now I am watching you and loving you in your new role as a young mother.

Let me start by saying this letter comes from a place of love. Sister, I have loved you my entire life. I have loved you from riding the school bus together and throwing hairbrushes in anger to saying goodbye in my college dorm and moving you into your new house. Love has never lost us. But now that you are a mother, this love has changed. It metamorphosed the moment I saw you hold your newborn baby. I saw my sister (the same sister that ripped my Barbies' heads off) as a woman. Your love for your kids has taught me to love others differently, including you. I strive to love others with the same devotion and authenticity that you show your children.

I know this kind of love is impossible to achieve, though; you've conquered many more heart-wrenching obstacles than I have. You've turned down every single social event that would mean excessive time away from your children. You've endured the emotional and mental distress that comes with having a newborn baby in your arms before you are even 21 years old. You've looked simultaneous depression and unfathomable love in its newborn eyes, and you've let every judgmental thing said by family and friends roll off your back. You've spent time. You've spent money. You've nearly spent yourself. You've changed yourself from an adolescent to a champion.

Being your sister has given me a front row seat to your early experience of motherhood. I've stood by watching you conquer the doubts almost everyone had about you. I get to watch you love your babies more than I've ever seen you love anything else (even more than you loved NSYNC). Your constant resilience and unwavering capability to give your children your all proves that you were made to be a mother, no matter your age.

I see you. I know you, and I know you struggle. I know you've made sacrifices others can't imagine. I know recognition hardly comes your way. I know you hurt almost as much as you feel joy. I also know that you are a good mother. Despite the voices in your head telling you otherwise; despite the time you've lost with your friends; despite the opportunities you had to give up to be there for your children; you have become a champion. My amazing sister is also an amazing mother.

And because of this, I am the luckiest sister in the world.