My first Mother’s Day, I was one month postpartum, my body and scar still aching from childbirth. The relentless chills and burning hot flashes from the stomach bug left me shivering under layers of blankets while the faint smell of disinfectant lingered in the room. I slept in short, fitful bursts between feedings, my body too exhausted to stay awake.
My second Mother’s Day, we were at a cozy, bustling market, sunlight streaming through the windows. As I held my sleeping child, his small, warm body pressed against mine, I tried to savor the meal. But the hum of conversations and the clinking of cutlery around me felt distant, the celebration of Mother’s Day not quite reaching my heart.
This year, I woke up to the soft light of dawn filling the room. My husband and son burst in, my son’s little but mighty voice echoing with excitement as he climbed into bed, his tiny hands cupping my face as he said, “Happy Mother’s Day!” His kiss was a big, sticky peck on my face, and the sincerity in his “I love you” made my heart swell. My husband’s words of appreciation were a warm balm, making me feel seen for the first time.
I couldn’t hold back tears. It was everything I wanted to hear but never imagined I’d need. Those three words from my two-year-old’s high-pitched voice melted me. Being recognized for my daily efforts made me feel empowered, for the first time, Mother’s Day held significant meaning for me.
Although I have been a mother for two years, I never felt I truly qualified as one. In the first year, I had no idea what I was doing. I based my parenting on research, my child’s needs, and the intuition I prayed for.
However, this Mother’s Day, I finally feel the depth and significance of my role. In the quiet moments of early morning feedings, sleepless nights, and endless diaper changes, I learned more about strength, patience, and unconditional love than I ever thought possible.
Motherhood has been my most profound teacher, revealing facets of my womanhood I hadn’t understood before. It taught me resilience as I pushed through exhaustion and self-doubt. It showed me the true meaning of sacrifice, where my child’s needs often came before my own. It illuminated the power of nurturing, not just for my child but for myself, as I learned to give grace and patience to my own growth.
Being a mother has also deepened my connection to the women who came before me—my mother and grandmothers—and the shared experience that binds us. I now understand the quiet strength behind their smiles and the wisdom in their words. I appreciate the balance they struck between caregiving and their own identities, something I strive for every day.
Mother’s Day this year was more than a celebration—it was a revelation. It was a moment of recognition and acceptance of my journey. It made me realize that being a mother has enriched my life and deepened my understanding of womanhood in ways no other experience could.
To all the mothers out there still finding their footing, feeling like they’re just figuring things out as they go along, know that you are seen, appreciated, and doing an incredible job. Motherhood is not about perfection; it’s about love, growth, and the endless effort you put into nurturing your child and yourself.
Reflecting on my journey from that first chaotic Mother’s Day to now, I’m amazed at how far I’ve come. The challenges have shaped me, the small moments have taught me, and the love I give and receive has made me grow. My initial struggles and experiences have been the foundation upon which I’ve built my journey of growth and appreciation, transforming me into a stronger, more compassionate woman.