Millions of people have watched me carry my daughter and food back to my seat at a San Francisco Giants game. They have praised me as “mom of the year” and called my husband too many names to list. Some have sent me DMs or posted TikTok commentary videos about why I need to leave him.

My name is Erika. Our baby is Anastasia. My husband is Ramses. Before you decide what our marriage looks like, I would like you to hear from the woman you’re defending.

Ramses is an amazing husband and an even better father. We’ve been part of each other’s lives for nine years, and today we’re raising two under two together. I know how he treats me, how he cares for our kids, and what he does for our family. A conversation the audience couldn’t hear became the basis for millions of judgments about that life.

We initially thought the broadcast was funny. Kruk and Kuip are broadcasting legends, and part of their charm is the way they tell stories about people at the ballpark. That night, they noticed me returning with Anastasia in her Ergobaby Carrier (highly recommend to you mom and dads by the way) and my hands full of food. They supplied dialogue, joked about Ramses, and dubbed me “mom of the year.”

Friends and family started calling and texting us immediately. We laughed at the narration because anyone who knows our family knows how ridiculous it is to suggest that Ramses never helps with our kids. But as the clip spread, people on the internet treated the announcers’ imaginary narration as evidence of our unequal relationship.

Here is what really was said.

Around the fifth inning, I went to use the restroom. Ramses offered to take Anastasia off my hands. I wanted to keep her. San Francisco night games get chilly, and we call her our little “hot pocket” because her body heat keeps you warm in the carrier. I also figured I might as well change her diaper while I was up.

While I was away, I texted Ramses a photo of the food menu in the Field Club. I thought since I was passing by, I might as well grab something for us. He said he’d have whatever had the shortest line.

I returned with brisket sandwiches and loaded fries. He moved my jacket to clear my seat, greeted our smiling daughter, and asked whether I wanted to eat first. In the video, you can see my head turn to him and speak. I told him to go ahead. I had eaten before we left for the game, and I knew he hadn’t had a full meal all day.

He offered to take the containers off my lap, but I told him I was fine holding my food and the nachos we would share later. Keeping them on my lap kept them off the dirty stadium floor. Finally, before even taking a bite himself, he offered to hand feed me and share his sandwich. I told him to enjoy.

Then he ate, as I had told him to.

When I turned to speak to the woman beside me, I was telling her about our daughter. I wasn’t saying I wanted to smack my husband. There was no argument about ketchup. He didn’t tell me I forgot anything.

I understand how it looked on television. But we could hear each other. The announcers and audience couldn’t.

There is something else the world doesn’t know.

Recently, Ramses lost one of his oldest friends, a gifted baseball player he had known since they were kids. His death was untimely, and my husband will never admit it, but I know he’s been grieving him deeply. There was no formal funeral or memorial service for him to attend. I suggested a Giants game as a way to remember his friend. I wanted Ramses to watch baseball, eat some ballpark food, and have some room to reflect on his friend’s passing. I would glance over and could tell he was texting his group chat about their lost member throughout the game.

The camera showed what I was carrying in my hands. It couldn’t show what he was carrying that night.

There have been many times when I needed time to myself and Ramses took care of our children. At bedtime, he puts our son to sleep while I put Anastasia to sleep. We both change diapers, attend medical appointments, read, and play with our kids.

Taking our children to games is something we love doing together. We’ve brought them to Giants Opening Day and travel yearly to at least one away game with the 49er Faithful. Along the way, other fans have cheered us on and told us what a great team we make with our kids. Those moments mean a lot because getting two little children to a game takes cooperation, patience, and a sense of humor. That teamwork was there that night, too, even if the clip didn’t show it.

Our marriage has room for either of us to need help. That evening, I chose to take care of him. A camera catching me doing something for my husband doesn’t show all the times he has done something for me.

We talk about mothers’ mental health and the importance of supporting women. Those conversations should be important to everyone. I also think fathers deserve that same care and consideration.

Six weeks before my daughter was born, my employer of 13 years laid off my entire division. Ramses had just put up the down payment on a bigger home for our growing family. My unemployment meant he was facing the mortgage payments and managing a remodel on his own, while we prepared to welcome another child.

My employer provided medical coverage would lapse before my daughter’s birth. I was at risk of not have medical insurance for the birth of our daughter. Even with those new responsibilities, he made it possible for me to continue seeing the doctors I was comfortable with after losing my own policy.

I had complications following Anastasia’s birth that caused me a lot of postpartum depression, stress and anxiety. He recognized that and told me to focus on feeling better. Since then, he has worked to make it possible for me to be a stay at home mother for our children while taking on the bills and overseeing the work to get our new home ready. I know how much that asks of him, especially in San Francisco. That is part of why it matters to me to recognize when he needs care, too.

The partner you rely on can also need someone to lean on.

Going viral has shown me firsthand that we have become quick to vilify people from a brief clip, filling in everything we cannot see with assumptions. You could see that my hands were full. You couldn’t hear my husband offer to help or hear me tell him to eat. You couldn’t know that he was grieving or that I wanted to take care of him that evening. If our viral moment contributes anything to the ongoing cultural conversation about how we judge what we see online, I hope it reminds us to be more comfortable saying, “I don’t know the whole story.”

The benefit of the doubt is more than an expression. It is a life philosophy that asks us to be curious before we are certain, to leave room for an explanation, and to remember that the person on our screen has a life beyond the moment we are watching.

To the people who insulted Ramses, please remember that our children may someday read your words or watch your videos. I don’t want them to search for this memory and find strangers calling their dad a deadbeat. Those are untrue judgments to leave behind about someone you have never met.

Both Ramses and I have received messages ranging from mildly annoying to deeply disturbing. Some people have gone out of their way to find our names and phone numbers. Some of you have told my husband to kill himself.

To anyone who has done that: shame on you. My husband is a father, a son, and a person deeply loved by people who know who he truly is. Our children need their dad. I hope and pray you reflect on what you have written.

To our friends and family who called, texted, or checked in to make sure we were okay, thank you. We live in a world where likes are treated as currency, but in our family, what matters most is the love of the people closest to us. You know us beyond this clip. To everyone who reached out with genuine concern or defended us online, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your kindness reminded our family how much love surrounds us.

To Duane Kuiper, Mike Krukow, and the SF Giants production team: you have both had legendary careers, and my husband has spent years listening to you. He was so excited to get home and send an e-mail to both of you, thanking you for including our family in your broadcast on a night that meant so much to him. I believe you meant no harm. But your jokes helped turn a moment of love and support into something strangers used to ridicule my husband and judge our marriage. What was a few moments of amusement on your broadcast became days of real pain for our family. I wish you had known what that night meant to him before making him the punchline.

Ramses has handled the attention with remarkable composure. He can joke about it all. He knows who he is and doesn’t let strangers define his relationship with us. He’s our family’s rock, and it’s one of the reasons I married him.

I have found it harder.

When I’ve cried reading the comments and the social media “explanations” of our marriage. The man people have been attacking was the one who consoled me. While strangers described how little he must care about me, he was helping me through the hurt their words have caused.

Media outlets across the country have contacted us asking to “tell our story.” We haven’t wanted to give interviews. The advice we keep hearing is to say nothing, wait a few days, and let everyone move on to the next viral video. My husband didn’t want me to write this. He knows who he is and would rather just let this pass. But I felt compelled to have my own voice heard, especially when so many people were speaking for me.

I understand and appreciate the kind words about being a super mom. It is flattering to be called “mom of the year.” But alongside those compliments have come assumptions about my marriage that are simply not true. Some people may have seen something in the clip that reminded them of a relationship in which they felt alone or unsupported. I’m sorry if it brought back something painful. But that is not my story.

You can appreciate what I was doing that night without assuming I have to do everything alone. Supporting me also means listening when I tell you about my own life.

That night, my husband needed me. I wanted to be there for him.

Thank you for dubbing me “mom of the year.”

Please believe me when I tell you I can only be so with the dad sitting next to me.