I have been that mother—the one who is completely immersed in the joys of motherhood, savoring every fleeting moment with my children. I’ve had those days filled with pure bliss, wishing time would stand still. That’s the mother I strive to be for my kids, every single day.
Yet, I’ve also been the mother who feels overwhelmed by endless questions, constant crying, and the never-ending messes. I’ve experienced days when fatigue was so profound, I thought I might shatter into pieces. I am all of these mothers, each one a part of my journey.
I have been the mother who dashed out of the house on a rainy Saturday night because I felt suffocated within my four walls. Conversely, I have been the mother who longs to stay in, soaking up the joyous chaos that fills our home.
I have spent an hour patiently assisting my child with homework, managing to keep a smile on my face. But I’ve also been the mother who, just five minutes in, snapped a pencil in frustration. I’ve shown up on time in a lovely outfit with my hair perfectly styled, and I’ve been the one who arrived late, clad in rumpled workout clothes, frazzled and stressed.
I have counted down the minutes until bedtime, craving the peace that follows. Yet, I’ve also eagerly awaited my children’s return from school, feeling a physical ache from missing them. I have felt capable of cleaning the entire house with one hand tied behind my back, only to find myself utterly depleted, running on fumes yet again.
I’ve prepared an elaborate organic meal from scratch and, on other days, resorted to heating chicken nuggets and serving them alongside chips while we watch TV. I have gazed at my beautiful children, feeling like the luckiest person alive, only to find myself tuning them out when they make silly faces for the umpteenth time.
I’ve navigated tough situations with grace and laid awake at night, burdened by worry, replaying moments when I felt I had fallen short. I’ve received compliments in restaurants for my children’s politeness, yet I’ve also dragged more than one screaming child out of a public place. I’ve had moments of screaming—not just raising my voice but truly letting it out. And I’ve managed to keep it together even when I felt like I was about to break.
Perhaps you’ve seen me during one of my high points and assumed I had everything under control. Or maybe you’ve witnessed me in a moment I’d rather forget and thought I was a mess. Ultimately, it’s not about how you perceive me; it’s how I perceive myself.
I recognize myself in all mothers—those excelling and those struggling. A single moment or a difficult day doesn’t define us. Many of us have embodied each of these roles at different times, all of us beautiful in our own right. This is the essence of motherhood.
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In summary, the journey of motherhood is a mosaic of experiences, emotions, and moments that shape us. Each mother’s story is unique, yet we share many of the same struggles and triumphs.