Motherhood is often painted as a beautiful, fulfilling journey and it absolutely is. But there are so many things I wish someone had prepared me for. I had read about sleepless nights, toddler tantrums, and the challenges of breastfeeding, but no one told me about the emotional rollercoaster that would come with it. No book ever described the exact feeling of watching my baby sleep, feeling my heart swell with an indescribable love only to be immediately followed by a wave of self-doubt. Was I holding them right? Was I feeding them enough? The fear of making a mistake felt just as powerful as the love itself. No amount of books, advice, or late-night Google searches could have fully equipped me for the reality of being a mom.
I remember the first time I truly felt this unprepared. My newborn had been crying for what felt like hours, and despite rocking, shushing, and checking every possible discomfort, nothing worked. Sitting there in the dim glow of the nightlight, exhausted beyond belief, I questioned everything. Was I doing something wrong? Why wasn’t anything I had read working? I had read all the books and followed all the advice, but nothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming love, the deep-seated worry, and the relentless exhaustion.
Motherhood is a journey full of surprises. Some are heartwarming, others completely overwhelming. While many people shared their advice, nothing truly prepared me for what would come. These are the lessons I uncovered through experience, the truths no one warned me about, yet ones that have shaped me in the most unexpected ways.
1. The Overwhelming Love—and Fear
I knew I would love my child, but I didn’t expect how intense that love would be. It’s a love so deep that it sometimes feels overwhelming as if my entire world revolves around their tiny existence. I remember holding my newborn for the first time, completely in awe of their perfection, tracing their tiny fingers with my own and feeling the warmth of their fragile body against my chest. At that moment, tears welled up in my eyes, not just from happiness but from an overwhelming sense of responsibility. A wave of fear crashed over me. What if I couldn’t protect them from everything? What if I made mistakes that would affect them forever? What if I wasn’t enough? It was the first time I truly understood what it meant to love someone so deeply that their pain would feel like my own.
The love a mother feels is unlike anything else. It’s fierce, unconditional, and all-consuming. But with that love comes an equally powerful fear. The fear of them getting hurt, of not being able to give them everything they deserve, of making decisions that might not always be right. No one told me that becoming a mom meant carrying my heart outside my body every single day, feeling both the joy and the weight of that love in every moment.
2. The Constant Guilt
Mom’s guilt is real. It lingers, making even our best efforts feel inadequate at times. There will always be a little voice in your head questioning whether you’re doing enough. Am I spending enough time with my kids? Should I have handled that tantrum differently? Am I making the right decisions for their future?
One evening, while juggling urgent house chores and caring for my unwell younger child, my older daughter tugged at my sleeve, asking me to play. I hesitated, torn between responsibilities, and told her ‘Just a minute.’ That minute turned into an hour, and by the time I looked up, she had fallen asleep waiting for me. That moment haunted me, the guilt weighing heavily on my heart. The guilt of missing those moments lingered when I returned to work, making me question if I had made the right decision. I feared missing the simple, fleeting moments: the laughter, the milestones, the joys that define childhood. I questioned whether I was making the right choice and whether I was prioritizing the right things.
Together, my husband and I decided I would stay home, despite knowing the challenges ahead. While mom’s guilt weighed heavily on me, my fears about daycare were entirely separate. I wasn’t just afraid of missing moments, I was terrified of what could happen in my absence. The fear of trusting their well-being to someone else ultimately outweighed the financial and personal sacrifices of staying home.
Staying home meant financial sacrifices too. Tightening our budget and making tough choices. Doubts crept in, making me question if I had done the right thing. But I placed my trust in God, believing this season had a purpose. Some days, the uncertainty was overwhelming, but I reminded myself that being present for my children now was the priority. I held onto faith—faith that God had a plan, that this phase was temporary, and that in time, I would find a way to contribute financially without compromising my family’s well-being.
The uncertainty of what might happen in my absence, combined with the deep desire to be present for every moment, reinforced my decision to stay home. I wanted to be the one ensuring my children felt safe and loved every single day. More than just the fear of entrusting them to someone else, I realized that I didn’t want to miss the moments that truly mattered—their laughter, their discoveries, their firsts. I wanted to embrace both the joys and challenges of motherhood, cherishing every milestone along the way. I wanted to be present for their happiest and hardest moments, to celebrate their milestones, and to offer comfort when they needed it most.
No one warned me that even when I gave everything I had, guilt would still find a way to creep in, whispering doubts and making me second-guess every choice. But over time, I learned that loving my children meant showing up in ways beyond just physical presence—it meant being there for them emotionally, making choices that ensured their well-being, even if it wasn’t always perfect. Looking back, I realized that no matter the doubts or challenges, the time spent with them was always worth it.
3. The Loneliness
As ironic as it sounds, motherhood can be incredibly lonely. Even when surrounded by family, friends, and well-meaning loved ones, the emotional weight of being a mom can feel isolating. There’s an unspoken expectation to have everything under control, yet so many moments of doubt and exhaustion go unnoticed. The late-night feedings, the overwhelming mental load, and the sheer responsibility of shaping another human life can feel suffocating at times.
Many times, I found myself rocking my baby in the middle of the night, staring at the dimly lit room, feeling like the rest of the world was asleep while I was drowning in exhaustion. The silence wasn’t just in the house, it echoed in my heart. Even with a supportive spouse, the weight of motherhood felt like mine alone to bear. The endless to-do lists: diaper changes, feeding schedules, house chores, doctor’s appointments—never stopped running through my mind. And yet, it often felt like no one truly saw the invisible work I was carrying.
I recall sitting in a room full of people, smiling and nodding while inside, I felt utterly alone. Everyone saw the happy baby and the doting mother, but no one saw the silent struggles, the quiet tears shed in the middle of the night, or the deep longing for someone to say, ‘I see you, and I understand.’
I thought being home with my baby would feel warm and fulfilling all the time. Instead, some days felt like I was disappearing into the background, unseen and unheard. Friends without kids might not understand your new reality, making it even harder to express these feelings. You wonder if you should be grateful, if you should just push through, because isn’t this what you wanted? But no one told me how isolating it could feel, how much I would crave adult conversations, validation, and reassurance that I was still me underneath the endless diapers and lullabies.
It took me a while to realize that I wasn’t truly alone. So many moms feel this way too, navigating the same silent battles. Finding a community whether through mom friends, online support groups, or even honest conversations became a lifeline. And in those connections, I discovered that even in loneliness, we are never truly alone. A simple ‘I get it’ from another mom can be the difference between feeling unseen and feeling understood.
4. How Hard It Is to Ask for Help
Before becoming a mom, I thought asking for help would be easy. After all, isn’t that what support systems are for? But I quickly learned that it’s not always so simple. There is this unspoken pressure to do it all, to prove that you can handle everything on your own. The world tells moms they are superheroes, and while that is empowering, it also makes it harder to admit when we’re struggling.
I remember one evening when my sister came over. She must have noticed the mountain of laundry that had been sitting in baskets for days. Without a word, she sat down and started folding clothes, and at that moment, I felt an immense wave of gratitude. It was such a simple act, but it meant the world to me. I wanted to break down, to cry out for help, but instead, I stood there, swallowing my exhaustion and forcing myself to keep going. My sister’s quiet act of folding laundry spoke louder than any words—reminding me that I didn’t have to do this alone. I wanted to call someone, to ask for help, but something inside me resisted. Would they think I wasn’t a good mom? Would they assume I couldn’t handle it? No one told me that admitting I needed help would sometimes feel like admitting failure—even though it isn’t. Then there was the time my younger son got sick and had to be admitted to the hospital. My aunt, who had flown in from London for her holiday, immediately stepped in to care for my daughter for a few days while my husband who was working outstation, worked his best to get the earliest flight home. Though my mother has always lived with us, she isn’t able to care for the children for long periods, so having my aunt’s support was an incredible relief. Her kindness extended beyond just helping at home—she even brought my daughter to the hospital so she could see her little brother, ensuring she still felt connected to us despite the difficult situation. Other family members also stepped in when I needed them most, reminding me that I wasn’t in this alone. In moments like these, I realized the true strength of family and the quiet, powerful ways they show up when it matters most. Other times, another aunt and uncle would babysit my children so I could attend to important duties. These moments reminded me that help often comes in different ways, sometimes even before I realized I needed it. They taught me that asking for support doesn’t make me less of a mother—it makes me a stronger one. I learned that motherhood isn’t meant to be navigated alone and that accepting help isn’t a sign of weakness but an act of love—for myself and for my children. That small act of kindness reminded me that I didn’t have to do this alone.
Asking for help is one of the strongest things a mom can do. It doesn’t mean you’re weak; it means you’re human. It means you love your child enough to know that you don’t have to do this alone. And once I learned to ask, I realized something beautiful—most people are more than willing to step in, but they just don’t know when or how unless we let them in.
5. The Changes in Friendships
Friendships shift in ways I never expected. Before kids, I could go out whenever I wanted, joining my friends for outings and get-togethers without a second thought. I never had to worry about nap schedules, feeding times, or bedtime routines. But after becoming a mom, everything changed. Some friends naturally drifted away, not out of malice, but simply because our lives were no longer aligned in the same way. While I still deeply value those friendships, I often feel the distance, especially when I see them continuing as before, while my world has completely transformed.
No one told me how hard it would be to find new friendships as a mom. I thought meeting other moms would be easy, and that shared experiences would naturally bring us together. But the reality is, making mom friends can feel like navigating an entirely new social landscape—it’s almost like dating all over again. There’s the nervousness of approaching someone new, the uncertainty of whether you’ll click, and the awkward dance of trying to figure out if this person could become part of your support system. It’s a strange mix of excitement and hesitation, wondering if they understand your struggles, if your parenting styles align, or if you have enough in common beyond just being moms. There are moments of awkwardness, hesitations, and the fear of not clicking. Will they understand my struggles? Will they judge my parenting? Will we have anything in common beyond just being moms?
While I cherish the friendships I still have, I also long for those day-to-day connections with people who truly understand the mental load and emotional weight of being a mom. The truth is, I’m still figuring it out. I’m learning that it’s okay if my friendships look different now, that deep connections take time, and that I don’t have to have it all figured out just yet. In the meantime, I’ve come to deeply appreciate the unexpected calls and texts from friends checking in on me, whether it’s on my birthday, or simply out of the blue while I was just taking a breather. Those small gestures, those moments of kindness, have made me feel sane even if just for a little while, reminding me that I’m not as alone as I sometimes feel.
No one told me how much I would miss the ease of old friendships or how much I would long for new connections that feel just as natural. Motherhood reshapes relationships in ways I never imagined, and while I may not have found my “mom tribe” yet, I’m holding onto hope that, in time, those connections will come.
6. The Identity Shift
I expected my life to change, but I didn’t expect how much I would change. Motherhood isn’t just about taking care of a child—it’s a complete transformation of who you are. Before kids, I knew who I was. My time was my own, my goals were clear, and I could pursue my passions without guilt or interruption. But after becoming a mom, my identity felt like it had shifted overnight, and no one had warned me about how unsettling that would feel.
I struggled with feeling like I had lost parts of myself. The things that once made me: my interests, my ambitions, my social life. It all suddenly took a backseat to diaper changes, feeding schedules, and nap times. I loved my child deeply, but I also missed the freedom of being able to do things for myself without planning around someone else’s needs.
I remember standing in front of the mirror one day, not quite recognizing the person staring back at me. The tired eyes, the messy hair, the body that felt different. Everything about me had changed. And beyond the physical, there was a deeper shift. My priorities were different, my mindset had evolved, and yet, I sometimes longed for the person I used to be.
But over time, I realized that I wasn’t losing myself. I was becoming someone new. Motherhood didn’t erase who I was; it added new layers to my identity. I was still me, just with more strength, more resilience, and a deeper capacity for love than I ever thought possible.
No one told me that I would have to rediscover myself along the way, but I did. In doing so, I found a version of myself that I never knew existed. The one that is softer, stronger, and filled with a love that redefines everything.
7. The Never-Ending Exhaustion
I knew being a mom would be tiring, but I didn’t know just how bone-deep that exhaustion would be. It’s not just about sleepless nights, it’s the emotional, mental, and physical exhaustion that comes with constantly being responsible for another tiny human. It’s waking up multiple times in the middle of the night, running on caffeine and sheer willpower, and still finding the strength to show up every single day.
It’s the kind of exhaustion that seeps into your bones, making even the simplest tasks feel overwhelming. It’s carrying the invisible weight of planning meals, remembering doctor’s appointments, and juggling responsibilities that never seem to end. Some days, it feels like running on an empty tank, with no chance to refuel. And yet, somehow, moms keep going; because deep down, we find a strength we never knew existed. It’s a resilience born from love, an instinct to push forward even when our bodies and minds are begging for rest. In the hardest moments, we don’t just survive—we adapt, we endure, and we show up, again and again, because that’s what being a mother means.
And just when I think I’ve reached my limit, motherhood throws moments at me that push me even further into moments that demand more strength, patience, and resilience than I ever thought I had. I remember when both of my kids fell sick at the same time. It felt like everything was unraveling at once. There was no break, no moment to catch my breath. I had to keep going, making sure the environment was clean, safe, and comfortable for them. I worked around the clock, tending to their every need, and comforting them through fevers and restless nights. In times like these, they clung to me, both needing all of me at once, and I had to be there, no matter how drained I felt.
But beyond the physical exhaustion, the emotional weight was just as overwhelming. I was so worried, and I had never felt so alone. The guilt crept in and I kept thinking about what I should have done differently, wondering if I had missed something that could have prevented them from falling sick. My mind raced with endless thoughts about what the best next step should be, constantly second-guessing every decision. It felt like a warzone with my inner self, torn between pushing forward and wanting to collapse from the weight of it all.
Even though I was feeling unwell myself, I had no choice but to push through, neglecting my sickness because they needed me more. The moment I finally got to catch a breather, I wondered if would I even be able to get up again on my aching legs? My tired arms? Could I keep standing through this exhaustion? But even as the doubts crept in, I knew I had to push forward. Because despite the exhaustion, despite the relentless weight of it all, they needed me, and I needed to be there for them. I kept going, running on pure love and determination, knowing that even in my exhaustion, I was their source of comfort, their safe place.
And in the middle of it all, when exhaustion feels endless and doubt creeps in, some moments remind me why it’s all worth it. A tiny hand resting on mine, a sleepy ‘I love you,’ or the way they look at me like I’m their whole world. Those moments remind me why I keep going, why I push through the tiredness, why every sleepless night and every exhausting day is worth it.
It’s a never-ending list of responsibilities. Making sure they’re fed, bathed, entertained, and loved while also trying to keep the house in some kind of order and maybe, just maybe, find a second for yourself. It’s the mental load of remembering doctor’s appointments, school activities, grocery lists, and the ever-growing pile of laundry. It’s feeling drained yet pushing through because there is no pause button in motherhood.
And yet, somehow, we still keep going. Because despite the exhaustion, there’s also an unexplainable strength that keeps us moving forward. I’ve felt it in moments when I thought I had nothing left to give, yet somehow, I kept going. It’s the kind of strength that allows a mother to stay awake for nights on end, to push through sickness without pause, and to comfort her child even when she is struggling. It’s a strength born out of love, resilience, and an unwavering sense of responsibility that no one can quite prepare you for—but one that every mother discovers within herself. A single giggle, a sleepy “I love you,” or a tiny hand reaching for yours in the middle of the night makes every moment of exhaustion worth it.
8. How Fast Time Flies
Everyone says, “They grow up so fast,” but I never truly understood what that meant until I became a mom. One moment, I was cradling a tiny newborn in my arms, inhaling that sweet baby scent, and the next, I was watching them take their first steps, hearing them say “Mommy” for the first time, and realizing that every milestone was a step toward independence.
There were times I wished for certain phases to pass quickly. The sleepless nights, the endless diaper changes, the challenging toddler tantrums longing for a little more rest and ease. But now, I find myself longing for time to slow down. I see it in the way their baby features fade, in the way their chubby hands turn into little fingers that no longer need to hold mine as tightly. I hear it in their voices, growing more confident, asking bigger questions, needing me just a little less with each passing day.
I remember rocking my baby to sleep one night, exhausted and drained, wishing for just a few hours of uninterrupted rest. Then came the moment my daughter stopped breastfeeding—a milestone I knew was inevitable, yet one I hadn’t fully prepared for emotionally. It felt surreal. When she was smaller, she couldn’t be away from me for even a minute, always needing me close. And then, suddenly, she was okay with letting go. She was fine—ready to explore, filled with a newfound confidence that took over her. I watched as she embraced this independence, realizing she didn’t need me in the same way anymore. It was a milestone I had anticipated, yet when it happened, I wasn’t prepared for the emotions that followed. As she turned away, no longer needing me in that way, a pang of sadness settled in my chest. I realized it was another step toward independence. One of many that would come. It was a reminder that every phase, even the most exhausting ones, is fleeting, and one day, I would long for even the sleepless nights back. I realized I was thinking about it too much, feeling sad and nostalgic over something that is simply a part of growing up. And then it hit me. I needed to wake up, to embrace this phase rather than mourn it.
Motherhood isn’t about holding onto the past; it’s about moving forward, adjusting, and learning to be present in every stage. I felt this deeply on my daughter’s first day at kindergarten, another milestone that reminded me just how quickly time moves forward. I watched her walk into her classroom with a mix of pride and sadness, my heart swelling as she confidently stepped into this new world. But alongside that pride, there was also worry. What if she needed something and couldn’t express it to her teachers? What if she felt lost or overwhelmed and I wasn’t there to help her? She was so brave, stepping into her new world with excitement and confidence. She did so well. Coming home beaming, proud of her achievement, telling me all about the new friends she made and the fun she had learning. It was in that moment that I truly understood, that embracing each phase allows me to appreciate it even more to celebrate her growth rather than mourn the passing of time. So instead of dwelling on what’s slipping away, I remind myself to soak in what’s here, right now. But then, as I held them, I realized—these moments are fleeting, and one day, I won’t be rocking them to sleep anymore. That thought hit me harder than I expected, reminding me to cherish every cuddle, every sleepy embrace, and every whispered goodnight while I still can. One day, they won’t need me to tuck them in, to hold them close, to kiss away their tears. And suddenly, I wanted to hold onto that moment forever.
No one told me how bittersweet it would be to watch them grow—to celebrate their milestones while secretly grieving the days that have slipped away. The days can feel long, but the years? They pass in the blink of an eye.
Motherhood is a continuous journey of learning to let go while embracing each new phase with love and presence. And while I can’t freeze time, I can choose to make the most of it: to be present, to cherish the little moments, to memorize the way their laughter sounds and the way they look at me like I’m their whole world. Because one day, I’ll miss even the chaos, and I want to hold onto every precious moment while I still can.
9. The Unspoken Mom Bonds
There’s a special kind of connection between moms that I never noticed before. A simple smile at the grocery store, a knowing glance at the park, or a quiet nod when your child is having a meltdown in public. These small moments remind me that we’re all in this together. No one told me how comforting it would be to have an unspoken bond with complete strangers just because we’re both moms navigating this journey.
I remember the first time I truly felt this silent support. I was in the middle of a grocery store, pushing a cart with one child crying and the other trying to grab everything in sight. I could feel the frustration rising in my chest, my patience wearing thin. Then, I caught the eye of another mom across the aisle—she smiled at me, a look that said, I see you. I’ve been there. And in that moment, I felt a wave of relief. I wasn’t alone.
There have been other times too, a mom offering me a baby wipe when mine ran out, a stranger distracting my toddler with funny faces while I desperately tried to check out, and another mother reassuring me after a rough day that it gets easier. These small acts of kindness, these quiet gestures, they mean everything. They are reminders that even in moments of chaos, we are surrounded by an unspoken sisterhood.
No one told me that I’d find encouragement from the most unexpected places. Sometimes, even more than from people I’ve known my whole life. That a simple exchange in a doctor’s waiting room or a shared laugh over the chaos of a messy playdate could create an instant connection. Sometimes, words aren’t needed at all actually. Just the presence of another mom who gets it. And in those moments, I’ve come to understand that support doesn’t always have to come in grand gestures. Sometimes, it’s found in fleeting, everyday interactions that make the weight of motherhood feel just a little lighter.
Motherhood can feel isolating, but these unspoken bonds remind me that we’re never truly alone. And when I see another mom struggling, I try to offer the same kindness that has been given to me. A smile, a word of reassurance, or simply letting her know that I see her, and I understand. Because sometimes, that’s all we need. To be seen, to be acknowledged, and to know that we’re not in this alone.
10. That It’s All Worth It
No one told me that despite the exhaustion, the fear, the guilt, and the challenges, it’s all worth it. That one day, I would look back and realize that every sleepless night, every sacrifice, and every difficult moment led to something beautiful. Motherhood isn’t easy, but it’s the most rewarding, heart-expanding, and life-changing experience I’ve ever had.
There are days when the chaos feels overwhelming when the crying won’t stop, the house is a mess, and I feel like I’m failing in every way. But then, in the middle of all that exhaustion, my child wraps their tiny arms around my neck and whispers, “I love you, Mommy.” And suddenly, every struggle, every sleepless night, every moment of self-doubt feels small in comparison to that love.
I think about the days when my children will no longer need me in the way they do now. One day, I won’t be the one they run to for every little thing. One day, I’ll miss the sticky chocolate fingers reaching for mine, the sleepy cuddles, the little voices calling out for me in the night. These are the moments that, even in the hardest times, make it all worth it.
No one told me that motherhood would stretch me, challenge me, and break me open in ways I never imagined, but no one told me how much it would fill me, either. That I would find a strength I never knew I had, that I would love in a way that redefines everything.
And then, there are those moments—the ones that make everything else fade away. The way my child’s eyes light up when they see me after a long day. The laughter that echoes through our home, filling every corner with warmth. The unexpected “Thank you, Mommy” or leaving quick brief little kisses that catch me off guard and leave me breathless. These are the moments that remind me that the love we share overshadows every struggle, every doubt, and every challenge.
At the end of the day, when I tuck them into bed, kiss their soft cheeks, and watch them drift off to sleep, I realize that I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. Motherhood is hard, messy, and exhausting—but it’s also the most beautiful thing I’ve ever done. And that’s what makes it all worth it.
If you’re a mom reading this, just know that you’re not alone. Motherhood is a journey filled with chaos, joy, exhaustion, and love—sometimes all at once. There will be moments when you feel like you’re failing, moments when you doubt yourself, and moments when you wonder if you’re doing enough. But in those moments, remember that you are doing an incredible job.
No one has all the answers, and none of us have it all figured out—but we’re in this together, learning as we go. We celebrate the little victories, survive the tough days, and cherish the moments that make it all worthwhile.
From one mom to another, I see you, I understand, and I am right there with you. We may not have all the answers, but we have each other, and that makes all the difference. That is why I build t this space. A space where mothers can find support, comfort, and connection. In the midst of chaos, knowing that I am not alone in this motherhood journey brings a sense of calm and reassurance. Realizing that other moms go through the same struggles, the same doubts, and the same moments of joy has been a source of strength for me. Being part of a community like this has provided me with support, guidance, and moments of relief just by listening to the shared stories of other mothers. Whether they are filled with joy, uncertainty, exhaustion, or even moments of comparison, each story reminds me that motherhood is a shared experience, one that connects us all in unexpected ways. It reminds me that we all experience motherhood in our own unique ways, but we are never truly alone in it. This is a space where we can share our experiences, lift each other up, and find comfort in knowing that we are never truly alone in this journey. Because every mom deserves to be supported, celebrated, and reminded that she is doing an incredible job, even on the hardest days. Motherhood isn’t a destination. It is a journey, and we walk it together. If you ever feel like you need a place to relate, to be heard, or simply to find reassurance, I invite you to join me here.
What’s something about motherhood that no one told you? What’s one piece of advice you’d give a new mom? I’d love to hear your thoughts and experiences because every mom’s journey is different, but none of us have to go through it alone. Hope to hear from you…💛
