The Messy, Beautiful Truth About Being a Mum

Grab your coffee or tea, ladies, and make yourself comfortable because this one’s a bit of a read! I’m about to take you on a journey through the women who’ve shaped my life—strong, inspiring, and sometimes hilarious women who have taught me more than I could ever express. Whether you’re a mum, a daughter, or a sister, I’m sure you’ll find something here that hits home. Ready? Let’s dive in!

Remembering Childhood and My Mother

Thinking back to my own childhood, I find myself wondering: what was I really like as a child?

How did my mother manage it all? Especially in a time when parenting looked so different to how it does today. We often forget that our mothers are women first. Women with hopes, dreams, passions, and entire identities before being handed the role of ‘mum’ with the words “you’re expecting.”

When I found out I was pregnant at 23, I was thrilled. My husband and I had planned to start a family, although the timing was less than perfect—I had just started a new job. Still, we were excited. I thought I had it all figured out, having practically raised my baby sister who’s 11 years younger than me. But I still remember that moment, about five months into my pregnancy, reading one of those midwife pamphlets and suddenly spiralling into a full-blown panic attack. I marched out of the bathroom, pale-faced and breathless, declaring, “I don’t think I want to do this anymore!” It’s hilarious now, of course—of course I wanted a baby. But the thought of giving birth terrified me.

Maybe it was because I had grown up hearing my mother’s war stories of childbirth. She told me about how my brother’s birth was agonizing and traumatic, and later, at age 41, she gave birth to my sister—a so-called “geriatric” birth (a label I still find hilariously offensive). My father described hearing her screaming in pain during the induced labour. Meanwhile, my own birth? She said the contractions were like butterflies in her stomach. Apparently, I just slid into the world with grace—thanks to my brother for paving the way!

My Mother’s Strength

Growing up, I watched my mother work tirelessly to ensure we had a roof over our heads and food on the table. I admire her for that deeply. As kids, we crave time with our parents, and we don’t always understand their absence. She came from a generation where survival was the focus—working hard and doing whatever it takes. For that, I love her. We haven’t always seen eye to eye, and like many daughters, I’ve taken for granted that she’d always be there.

A few years ago, she had a cancer scare. It was grim for a while, and I remember being haunted by the thought of never seeing her again. We’ve fought, we’ve cried, we’ve laughed—and despite everything, having her in my life is a blessing I don’t take lightly. We’re both strong-willed women (perhaps a bit too similar), and that’s where we sometimes clash. But the truth is, she’s not just “Mum.” She’s a woman who has lived a life full of her own stories, her own heartbreaks, triumphs, and dreams.

And even now—she still worries about her children. No matter how old we get. That instinct never fades. But part of being a mother is learning to let go. To realise your baby is no longer a baby—they’ve become someone with their own life, their own experiences, and sometimes they feel like someone new, someone you didn’t quite raise but admire just the same. It’s a strange shift.

Becoming a Mother Myself

Now, as a mother myself, I get it more than ever. I love my children deeply and would walk through fire for them. Life hasn’t always been picture-perfect. I’m not physically close to them now, and for a while, we were even estranged—but that’s a story for another day. My daughter and I talk on the phone, and it’s something I treasure. I want more of that. But she has her own life now—married and growing into the beautiful woman she’s meant to be.

It’s bittersweet, watching your child become their own person. You’re proud, but you also mourn the little one who used to hold your hand. And then you remember—you were once that little one too.

I was with their father from the age of 18—so young, still figuring out who I was. I had dreams of travel and becoming someone. And for a time, I did all the “right” things. We bought a house, built a life. Then I lost my job, struggled with depression during and after pregnancy. I had two stepdaughters—beautiful girls who challenged me but will always have a place in my heart. Being a stepmother is uniquely hard. You love them, yet you understand their loyalty lies with someone else. And that’s okay.

There were also times when the mental load and emotional weight of motherhood felt so overwhelming, I didn’t know how to keep going. The sleepless nights, the worrying, the guilt—it’s a lot. There’s no instruction manual, no map. Just you, doing your best with the love you have.

Reflections on Motherhood

I won’t claim I was the perfect mum. In fact, I’d hesitate to say I was even a good one at times. Motherhood is full of second-guessing—were we soft enough? Tough enough? Did we raise them to be kind, respectful, forgiving? Did our fears and flaws rub off on them? Will they be okay if we’re not around? And all the while, we’re just trying to figure out who we are in the middle of it all.

It’s funny, really—how we’re always the best parents when it’s someone else’s kid. We see clearly, we’re full of wisdom and grace, because the emotional strings aren’t attached in the same way. But with our own? We lash out, we hold back, we forget to say “I love you” after a tough moment. We forget to apologise. Or we wait too long.

But we’re there. Always. Just like our mothers were, and still are.

The Strength of the Women in My Life

I’m lucky to be surrounded by incredible women, and I want to take a moment to acknowledge my sisters. My younger sister is raising three boys, working full-time, and still caring for my mum. I’m in awe of how she does it all with such grace and strength. My older sister and I share a wicked sense of humour, despite our 16-year age gap. Every year, I call to wish her on her birthday (which is 3 days before mine) , and every year, she asks, “When’s your birthday again?” It always cracks me up. We’ve grown closer over time, sharing everything from silly jokes to life lessons.

And then there’s my sister-in-law, who juggles everything with such efficiency. She’s always on the go, making sure everything is taken care of without complaint. These women inspire me daily. They do whatever it takes and make it look effortless, even though I know it’s anything but. I’m in awe of their strength and love for their families.

I also think of my grandmother, a sweet little woman who was tough as nails. I have such fond memories of her and the letters I would write her. She raised three children on her own, showing an unbreakable strength and resilience. Later in life, she found a wonderful man who became my grandfather in my eyes, and their love was something truly special. She was an incredible example of both tenderness and toughness, and I carry her memory with me every day.

These women are the backbone of their families. Even when things feel tough, they keep going. They’re not perfect, but they get it done with unwavering strength. I admire their resilience more than words can say. They’ve shown me what it means to be a mother, a sister, and a woman. I often find myself wishing I could be more like them—patient, driven, and graceful in the chaos.

The Village We Miss

I often miss the warmth and closeness of family. Before we came to Australia, I spent so much time with my aunty and cousins (lots of girls in the family). They meant the world to me. I remember sleepovers, being allowed to sleep in my aunt's bed, and feeling safe and loved. It was a place where the world felt okay, and I was protected.

It truly takes a village to raise a child, and some days, that village feels far away. We need it—especially when parenting feels overwhelming. I miss the support of those who have known me forever and can step in when needed most.

Being a mother requires strength and vulnerability—finding balance between being soft and firm, loving yet tough. It’s about protecting your babies fiercely while learning to let go. These lessons were passed down from the women in my life, and I carry them with me every day. I hope to create that same warmth and safety for my children, knowing that leaning on others for support is okay. After all, none of us can do it alone, and the love of our village—whether near or far—makes all the difference.

Don’t Forget Yourself

And when we’re not coping, when life is throwing curveballs, we have to remember—it’s okay to say, “I’m not okay.” Whether you’re a single mother doing it all, or in a relationship feeling like the glue that holds everything together—it’s okay to have boundaries. It’s okay to say what you need.

And it’s okay if others don’t understand.

That's when you grab your keys, throw on some stretchy pants, and go watch a movie by yourself. Popcorn in hand, reclined seat, and a moment of peace. Because before we were mothers, we were people. And that woman inside you? She deserves just as much love and care as the children she raises.

A Mother’s Day Message

This Mother’s Day, whether you’re a mum, a daughter, a sister, a grandmother, a stepmother, aunt or someone simply holding space for others—know that your love matters. Your story matters. And maybe today, take a moment to call your mum, your sister, your daughter. Or just give yourself a hug.

After all, being a mother may be the toughest job in the world—but it’s also the one with the greatest reward: love that never ends.

Remember to Like and Share this with the women in your life ❤️

[And if you haven’t already—go watch that video that turns motherhood into a job interview. I dare you not to cry: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jyMZ_LOVcvo]

Happy Mother’s Day ❤️