Some days, I find myself quietly asking why I was given two children in a world that already feels so heavy. I hear the voices around me—how life is harder now, how expensive everything has become, how raising children today feels almost impossible. There are moments when those words settle in my heart, making me question myself, my choices, and whether I am doing enough for them. I get tired—physically, emotionally, mentally. The sleepless nights, the constant tending, the never-ending list of things to do… it can feel overwhelming. And in those quiet, honest moments, I wonder if I was truly ready for this life.
But as I sit with these thoughts, I am slowly learning to see things in a softer, more compassionate way. My children are not a mistake. They are not a burden placed on me in the middle of a difficult world. They are part of my story—part of who I am becoming. Through them, I am learning patience on days when I feel like I have none left. I am learning strength in ways I never imagined, carrying on even when I am exhausted. I am learning a deeper kind of love—the kind that stays, that gives, that shows up even when I feel empty.
Motherhood in this season is not easy. This is the stage of giving so much of myself—my time, my energy, my sleep. It is the stage where my children need me for almost everything, where my body is tired but my heart keeps going. But I remind myself, gently, that this is just a season. It will not always be this heavy. One day, they will sleep through the night. One day, they will not need me to prepare milk or carry them all the time. One day, things will feel lighter.