The mum who raised me, the mum I’m becoming, and everything in between
Mother’s Day has always felt like more than a single thing to me.
Sure, there are the flowers, the cards, maybe a breakfast tray that’s a little too wobbly for comfort. Those moments are sweet in their own right. But for me, Mother’s Day always arrives bundled up in layers: memories, gratitude, a bit of longing, sometimes even a quiet ache. It’s a day that asks you to pause and feel all the things, even the ones you didn’t expect.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that motherhood isn’t a single story. It’s a patchwork of them, stitched together by all the little moments that make up a life.
💛 The Mum Who Raised Me
So much of who I am started quietly, long before I ever noticed. The way I make a cup of tea, the way I fuss over people I love, the way I try to show up even when I’m tired—all of that, I owe to her.
I can’t really pick out just one memory. It’s more like a jumble of moments, all blurred together into something soft and familiar—like a favourite jumper you’ve worn a hundred times.
There was always laughter. Like the time I tried to ride a bike and steered myself straight into a tree (graceful, I know). Or when I perched on the old garden table with the dog and the whole thing gave way, folding me up like a deck chair. Those are the bits that stick. Not perfect, not polished—just real, a bit messy, and absolutely ours.
Recently, I found an old note I wrote as a child, telling her she was the most beautiful mum in the world. I don’t even remember writing it. She had kept it all those years, tucked away, and gave it back to me in my 30th birthday present. I only just found it. That says everything, I think.
Of course, there were the harder chapters too. Trying to be her anchor after my dad passed, while also giving her a reason to keep moving forward—her first grandbaby. I don’t think I really understood that balance of strength and love back then, not the way I do now.
And yes, we had our fair share of teenage drama—the arguments, the slammed doors, the dramatic declarations of ‘I hate you’ and ‘I wish you weren’t my mum.’ Big feelings, big sighs. But underneath it all, I always knew she was the best.
Now, our relationship feels brand new—half mother and daughter, half coworkers, with her as my supervisor (which is as entertaining as it sounds). Honestly, we laugh more now than ever. We’ve gone from chaos and big emotions to working side by side in the kitchen, and somehow, it just fits.
🌱 Lessons I Didn’t Realise I Was Learning
It’s funny how the things you grow up with sneak their way into your bones. It’s the little habits you don’t even notice forming—the way you say certain words, the way you make a cup of tea for someone who’s had a rough day, the way you instinctively reach out to comfort someone. You don’t see it at the time. Then, out of nowhere, you’ll catch yourself mid-action and think, ‘Oh, that’s her.’ And honestly, there’s a quiet comfort in realising she’s woven into the small things, living on in all these tiny, everyday gestures. I love that.
🤍 Becoming a Mum Myself
Becoming a mum wasn’t one clear, defining moment for me. When I had my eldest, I was still grieving my dad. Everything felt blurry. I knew the basics — working as a nursery assistant meant I understood how to care for a baby. But nothing prepares you for the reality of it: the exhaustion, the no sleep, the constant responsibility.
Then came the toddler stage. The frustration. The moments where he couldn’t communicate and would hit his head on the floor because he didn’t know how to express what he was feeling. That was a different kind of heartbreak.
When he reached school age and needed an autism/ADHD assessment, it brought a whole new set of feelings: questions, worry, overthinking everything. All while I was pregnant with my youngest. I wondered how my eldest would cope, how I’d balance everything. But somehow, you just find a way.
Now, their relationship is like any other set of brothers: fighting, chaos, everyday moments. We’re still waiting on that assessment (don’t even get me started on that process), but now he’s at a special educational needs school, and the change has been incredible.
As a mum, I’ve had to adapt. Keep things moving. Find calm in the chaos. Figure things out on the fly. Sometimes, in the middle of it all, I catch glimpses of my own mum in me — in how I keep going, in how I hold everything together. That’s when it hits: I’m not just raising them. I’m becoming her, in all the ways that matter.
🌿 The Mum I’m Still Becoming
II don’t think we ever fully arrive at “this is the kind of mum I am.” It’s not like you wake up one day with a certificate and a gold star that says you’ve made it. The truth is, we’re always in the process of becoming. Some days, I look around and genuinely feel like I’ve got it together — the house is tidy, everyone’s fed, the laughter is easy, and I think, okay, maybe I’m nailing this.
Other days, I’m just treading water, counting down the minutes until bedtime, overwhelmed by the sheer noise and mess and responsibility of it all. There are moments of patience and softness, when I surprise myself with how gentle I can be, and then there are moments that are anything but calm — days filled with raised voices, slammed doors, and the kind of chaos that leaves me questioning everything.
But honestly, all of it counts. Every single bit. Because motherhood was never supposed to be about perfection. It’s about showing up — again and again, especially on the days that feel impossibly heavy — and loving your kids through it all, even when you feel like you’re getting it wrong. That’s the real work, and the real magic, of being a mum.
🫶 The Real, Messy, Beautiful Bits
Motherhood isn’t always picture-perfect, no matter what social media, influencers, or those “perfect” mummy groups might say. The ones where everything has to be organic, perfectly planned, no sugar, no mess, no chaos… just no. Real life isn’t like that.
Honestly, working in childcare shows me what that kind of pressure does to kids — it breaks my heart. Motherhood isn’t about raising perfect little humans who fit into a box. It’s about raising happy, safe, loved kids in a home that feels real.
It’s tired mornings, messy homes, repeating yourself 47 times a day, refereeing sibling fights, changing meal plans just to keep everyone happy, feeling touched out, and suddenly being overwhelmed with love in the smallest moment. It’s living in comfy clothes more than you’d like to admit. It’s chaos and calm, sometimes in the same breath. And somewhere in the middle of all that, you’re building something special — even if it doesn’t always feel like it.
🤍 For Those Who Feel Something Different Today
Mother’s Day can be a lot of things, and it doesn’t always come wrapped in pretty paper and sunshine. For some, it’s genuinely joyful—a day that feels light and full of love, a chance to celebrate the people who raised us and the families we’re building. But for others, this day lands differently. It can feel complicated or heavy, a day that tugs at old wounds or brings up feelings we might not even have words for.
Maybe today means missing your mum, or navigating a strained relationship that never quite fits the way you wish it would. Maybe it’s wanting to be a mum and not being there yet, or feeling the ache of loss, grief, or just plain distance. If any of that is you, I just want you to know: you’re not forgotten here. Today doesn’t have to look a certain way, and you’re allowed to feel whatever you feel—messy, complicated, joyful, or a mix of everything at once. That’s all welcome.
🌸 In All Its Forms
Motherhood isn’t one shape, one path, or one experience. It’s layered, evolving, deeply personal. For me, today is about holding space for all of it: the mum who raised me, the mum I am, and the mum I’m still becoming.
💬 Final Thoughts & Come Chat
However today feels for you — whether it’s full of love, quiet reflection, or something harder to name — I see you. 🤍
Between the Pages & Pixels 