The other day I found myself standing in the kitchen preparing lunch boxes, stepping over shoes that nobody seems capable of putting away, while simultaneously trying to answer a work email, find a missing drink bottle, plan school pick up as I was off to a Midwife shift and remember whether the kids had done their homework.
Someone was crying.
Someone was hungry.
Someone needed help finding their other sock.
And I remember thinking, “This is a lot.”
Then later that night, when the house was finally quiet, I walked past the kids’ bedrooms and found myself standing there for a moment, just looking at them.
The same children who had exhausted me all day.
The same children who had asked me for seventeen snacks after school.
The same children who somehow turn every clean room into a crime scene in under ten minutes.
And suddenly my heart felt so full it almost hurt.
Motherhood is strange like that.
It can make you feel completely overwhelmed and completely grateful at exactly the same time.
I think sometimes we don’t talk enough about that.
We’re often expected to fit neatly into one camp or the other.
Either motherhood is magical and beautiful. Or it's hard and exhausting.
But in my experience, it’s both.
Usually within the same hour.
Maybe even the same minute.
I have four beautiful children now, but the road to getting here wasn’t as straightforward as I’d imagined it would be when I was younger.
There were months spent hoping. There was loss.
There were moments where my heart broke before it expanded again.
There were feeding journeys that didn’t go the way I’d planned.
There were days spent working from home, nights spent working as a midwife, years running my own kids clothing business and mornings fuelled almost entirely by coffee and determination.
There were seasons where I probably wasn’t okay, but I convinced myself I should be.
Seasons where I had incredible people around me, willing to help, yet I struggled to ask for it.
I think many mothers know that feeling.
The strange belief that we should somehow be able to carry everything ourselves.
As though needing support means we’re failing.
As though asking for help is somehow evidence that we’re not coping.
But motherhood was never supposed to be done alone.
And yet so many of us try.
What I’ve realised over the years is that motherhood isn’t measured by how much we can carry. It’s measured in the million tiny ways we show up.
The bedtime stories we read when we’re exhausted.
The lunches we make.
The tears we wipe.
The cuddles we stop for even when we’re running late.
The way we keep loving our children through every season, including the ones where we’re struggling ourselves.
And despite all of it - despite the hard days, the doubts, the mess, the mental load, the sleep deprivation, the guilt and the constant feeling that someone needs something from you - I wouldn’t trade it.
Because there are moments that stop me in my tracks.
Watching my children laugh together.
Hearing them defend one another.
Seeing them become siblings, friends and little humans finding their place in the world.
The way they reach for each other when they’re scared.
The inside jokes they share.
The memories they’re building together.
Sometimes I look at them and realise that one day they’ll be adults with lives and families of their own.
And all these ordinary moments we’re living right now will become the things I miss most.
The shoes by the door.
The endless questions.
The snack requests.
The noise.
The chaos. The beautiful, exhausting chaos
Motherhood has stretched me in ways I never expected.
It has humbled me. Broken me open.
Taught me more about love than anything else ever could.
It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And somehow, the best thing too.
If you’re in a season that feels heavy right now, I hope you know you’re not the only one.
And if you’re in a season that feels beautiful, soak it in.
The truth is most of us are living somewhere in between.
Tired and grateful. Overwhelmed and in love.
Counting down to bedtime and already missing who they were yesterday.
And maybe that’s motherhood in its truest form.
A beautiful contradiction.
One that breaks your heart and fills it at the very same time.
Until next time,
Justine x
Image credit - Woman and Wolfe
