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Before becoming a mother, I thought I understood what motherhood would be.

I knew there would be sleepless nights, diapers, crying, milestones, cuddles, and days when I would probably question what I was doing. I knew having a child would change my life. What I didn’t understand was how completely motherhood would change me.

Then Charlotte came into my life.

And suddenly, there was a little person in this world who needed me in a way nobody ever had before.

Motherhood has been one of the most beautiful experiences of my life, but I don’t think we talk enough about how beautiful and exhausting can exist at the same time. You can look at your child and feel a kind of love you didn’t know your heart was capable of holding, while also feeling so tired that you don’t know how you’re going to make it through the rest of the day.

You can be grateful and overwhelmed.

You can be happy and still need a break.

You can love being a mother and still miss pieces of the person you were before becoming one.

I’ve felt all of those things.

The Parts People Don’t Always See

There are so many small things that make up motherhood that nobody really notices.

It’s the baths.

The diaper changes.

Brushing little teeth.

Making sure there are clean clothes.

Figuring out what they’re going to eat.

Comforting them when they’re upset.

Getting up when you’re exhausted because they need something.

Watching them constantly because somehow toddlers can find danger in a completely safe room within approximately three seconds.

It’s remembering appointments, routines, favorite foods, what makes them laugh, what calms them down, and every tiny detail of a little person’s life.

And sometimes it’s doing all of that when you desperately need someone to take care of you for a minute.

There have been times when I’ve worked overnight and still had to switch right back into “Mom” the moment my shift was over. There have been days when my body was begging me to sleep, but motherhood didn’t care what time I clocked out.

Charlotte still needed her mom.

So I kept going.

That’s something motherhood has taught me about myself: I can function on a level of exhaustion I never knew existed when it comes to my daughter.

But I’ve also had to learn that constantly running on empty isn’t something I should be proud of.

Mothers need care, too.

The Mom Guilt Is Real

Then there’s the guilt.

Mom guilt can convince you that nothing you do is ever enough.

If you’re working, you wonder whether you’re missing too much.

If you’re exhausted, you feel guilty for not having more energy.

If you need space, you immediately wonder what kind of mother needs a break from her own child.

If you lose patience, you replay the moment afterward and promise yourself you’ll do better.

I’ve questioned myself more times than I can count.

Am I doing enough?

Am I giving her enough?

Am I present enough?

Will she know how much I love her?

And that last question always gets me.

Because if there is one thing I hope Charlotte never has to question, it is how deeply her mother loves her.

I won’t be a perfect mother. I’m not even going to pretend that’s something I’m capable of becoming.

But I will be a mother who keeps trying.

Motherhood While Carrying Your Own Pain

Something else I’ve learned is that becoming a mother doesn’t magically erase everything you went through before your child existed.

You still carry your own story.

Your heartbreak.

Your grief.

Your fears.

Your childhood experiences.

The relationships that changed you.

The people you’ve lost.

The things you’re still trying to heal from.

I’ve had to learn how to be someone’s safe place while still learning how to create safety within myself.

I’ve had to comfort my daughter on days when I wanted someone to comfort me.

I’ve had to smile and play while privately carrying things that felt incredibly heavy.

I’ve had moments when grief hits unexpectedly, and all I wanted was my own father.

There is something especially painful about needing your parent while simultaneously being a parent.

Sometimes I wish I could call him and ask questions. Sometimes I wish I could tell him something Charlotte did. Sometimes I wish I could hear his opinion, complain about how exhausted I am, or simply hear him tell me that I’m doing okay.

Grief has changed since becoming a mother because now there are moments when I’m grieving for myself and moments when I’m grieving everything Charlotte will never get to experience with the people I’ve lost.

And still, life keeps moving.

Charlotte keeps growing.

So I keep showing up.

She Doesn’t Know She’s Saving Me, Too

The funny thing is, Charlotte has absolutely no idea what she has done for my life.

To her, I’m just Mom.

I’m the person she comes to when she’s hungry, tired, uncomfortable, scared, excited, or wants something she probably isn’t supposed to have.

She doesn’t understand that there have been days when her smile was the best part of my entire day.

She doesn’t know that there have been moments when hearing her laugh pulled me out of my own head.

She doesn’t understand that watching her experience something for the first time has reminded me that there is still so much beauty left in this world.

She doesn’t know how many times I’ve looked at her and thought:

I have to keep going.

Motherhood gave me another reason to fight for the kind of life I want.

Not only for myself anymore.

For her.

I Think About What She’s Watching

One of the biggest changes motherhood created in me was making me think differently about what I tolerate.

Because Charlotte is watching.

Maybe she doesn’t understand everything right now, but one day she will.

She’s going to learn what love looks like partly by watching the relationships around her.

She’s going to learn how women deserve to be treated.

She going to learn boundaries.

She’s going to learn whether it’s okay to speak up when something hurts.

She’s going to learn whether she should make herself smaller to keep someone else happy.

And that realization has forced me to look at my own life differently.

I don’t want to teach my daughter to be strong while allowing myself to be continuously broken.

I don’t want to tell her she deserves respect while accepting disrespect in my own life.

I don’t want you to teach her that her voice matters while being afraid to use mine.

I want her to see that kindness and boundaries can coexist.

That loving someone doesn’t mean accepting everything from them.

That walking away from something unhealthy doesn’t make you a failure.

That starting over isn’t something to be ashamed of.

And that a woman is allowed to choose peace.

Breaking Cycles

Maybe that’s one of the greatest responsibilities I feel as her mother.

There are cycles I don’t want to hand down to her.

I’ve experienced relationships that taught me what love shouldn’t feel like. I’ve experienced fear, heartbreak, loss, and moments that completely changed who I was.

I can’t change those chapters.

But I can decide what I teach my daughter because of them.

I can teach her that love should feel safe.

I can teach her that “no” is a complete sentence.

I can teach her that she never has to earn someone’s basic respect.

I can teach her that apologizing is important, but she doesn’t need to apologize simply for having feelings.

I can teach her that being independent doesn’t mean she has to carry everything alone.

And I can teach her that coming home to Mom will always be an option, no matter how old she gets.

I’m Growing Up With Her

Charlotte is growing everyday, but sometimes I think I’m growing right alongside her.

She’s learning how to navigate the world.

I’m learning how to navigate motherhood.

She’s discovering who she is.

And in a strange way, so am I.

I’m learning patience.

I’m learning how much strength I actually have.

I’m learning that asking for help doesn’t mean I’m incapable.

I’m learning to forgive myself when I don’t get everything right.

I’m learning that sometimes the dishes can wait.

Sometimes the laundry can wait.

Sometimes everything else can wait because there’s a little girl asking me to sit with her, and one day she won’t be this little anymore.

That’s the part that gets me.

One day I won’t be changing diapers.

One day she won’t need me to help brush her teeth.

One day she won’t reach for me every time something scares her.

One day I won’t be carrying her around the way I do now.

One day she’ll have her own life, her own dreams, her own heartbreaks, and her own stories.

And I’ll probably wonder where all of these exhausting days went.

If She Reads This One Day

If Charlotte ever reads this when she’s older, there is something I want her to know.

You changed me.

You made me look at myself completely different.

You made me want more for my life because I wanted more for yours.

You taught me that I could be exhausted beyond words and somehow find enough energy for one more cuddle, one more snack, one more diaper, one more story, one more kiss goodnight.

You gave me some of the happiest moments of my life without even realizing you were doing it.

And on the days when I questioned whether I was doing motherhood right, I hope you still felt the one thing I never questioned:

My love for you.

I won’t get every moment right, Charlotte.

There will probably be things I look back on and wish I had handled differently.

But I promise I will keep learning.

I will keep showing up.

I will keep protecting you.

I will keep cheering for you.

And I will keep becoming the mother you deserve.

Motherhood hasn’t made my life perfect.

It has made my life more complicated, louder, messier, more exhausting, more frightening, and somehow infinitely more beautiful.

There are days when I feel like I’m absolutely crushing it.

There are days when bedtime feels like crossing the finish line of a marathon.

Both versions of me are still a good mom.

Because motherhood isn’t about getting everything right.

Sometimes it’s simply showing up again tomorrow with tired eyes, messy hair, a thousand things on your mind, and a heart that would still move mountains for one tiny person.

And if there is one role in this life I will never stop being grateful for, it’s hers.

Charlotte’s mom.

Until next time,

Between the Words