Motherhood, for me, has been the greatest blessing and the greatest challenge of my life.
I’ve been a mother for almost 18 years now. To just one child. So I can’t speak from experience about having more than one, and I know the conversations around that vary, some say more kids mean more chaos, others say they keep each other company. But honestly, none of that really matters.
What matters is how you feel about your path.
How you navigate the life that has unfolded for you.
And what you choose to make of it.
From the moment I became a mother, I’ve wanted what’s best for my child, as most mothers do. It’s such a strong feeling, this desire to make things better, to prevent pain, to soothe every moment of suffering. And yet… that’s not the way.
The truth is: they have their own journey.
Their own path to walk.
Their own wounds to feel, mistakes to make, and lessons to learn.
And as mothers, that can be excruciating to witness.
When my son was a baby, it was so much simpler. A cuddle, a breastfeed, a soft blanket, a whispered song and I could offer him comfort. Tangible. Immediate. Effective.
Now, with an almost-adult child, the needs are different.
They don’t always want comfort.
They don’t always want advice.
Sometimes they just want space. Sometimes they want to be heard but not fixed.
One of the things I’ve learnt (through many bumps and tears) is to ask:
“Do you want me to just listen, or are you looking for input?”
That simple question has softened so many moments, saved so many potential arguments. Because they don’t always need our wisdom, they need our presence.
Letting go isn’t something you do once.
It’s something you do again and again.
It’s a constant surrender.
Letting go of control. Letting go of the idea that you know best.
Letting go of how you thought things would be.
Letting go of your child’s pain, your need to fix, and your desire to hold them close when they may be pushing away.
I still want to wrap him up and kiss it all better.
But now, the hurts are invisible. Internal. Complicated. Its like he is breaking up with me everyday a little more.
And so I ask myself:
What does he need from me today?
And what do I need to let go of, so he can grow?
If you’re reading this and you’re in the early years with nappies and milk feeds and nap rhythms this might feel far away. But it’s not too early to start envisioning who you want your child to be when they eventually leave home.
How do you want them to feel about themselves, their choices, their ability to cope with life?
That vision, for me, has guided so many of my decisions over the years.
Not just about parenting, but about how I show up in our home and in myself.
Some days it feels like we’re not even on the same boat.
Other days, we’re paddling in sync.
That’s okay. It’s all part of the sacred mess.
If you’ve had a “perfect” week, pause and ask:
Where did I mess up?
What did I learn?
Because the mistakes are often where the real wisdom lies. In us. And in them.
This is the messy, beautiful dance of motherhood.
We love. We hold.
We let go.
And we let go some more.
With love,
Theoni