Motherhood, In All Its Forms
“There’s no perfect way to mother. Only your way.”
A special midweek post in honour of Mother's Day
It was the American and Canadian celebration of Mother’s Day this past weekend. Living across continents, I didn’t realise until my best girl from Canada messaged me. But I’m choosing to acknowledge it now, because motherhood deserves more than a date, it deserves pause, recognition, and reflection.
My Story of Mothering
I’m the last of four children, so the only version of motherhood I could truly understand, until recently, was through the lens of being mothered. And what a journey it’s been, now that I’m experiencing it myself.
The first four months of my pregnancy were tough. But my postpartum memories? They're laced with gratitude. Since becoming a mother, I’ve come to appreciate my own mum so much more.
I remember praying fervently that her visa would be approved so she could be by my side, and thankfully, it was. She became my extra support, my strength, my soldier. I can still hear her insisting on keeping the volume up on the fetal monitor after I received the epidural (bless the inventor!). She said she needed to hear my baby’s heartbeat, it gave her peace. When my OB finally said it was time to push, before things took an interesting turn, he told her, in Yoruba, “Grandma, move to the back of the room and continue your prayers there.” I remember laughing in that moment. I was exhausted but comforted by her presence. After my son was born, she kept walking out to ask the OB questions. I’m sure he didn’t want to see her coming again, but I was relieved that she cared enough to ask.
Remembering Other Mothers
I also remember my sister stepping up when our mum couldn’t. On my 13th birthday, with my mum away in Brazil and none of the men in the house batting an eye, my sister made the best fried rice I’ve ever had. At the time, my spoiled self still wrote in my diary that it was the worst birthday because my dad didn’t take me out like he promised. It’s funny now, thinking back on how entitled I felt - that’s such a kid thing, isn’t it?
But those memories, of being cared for in different ways by the women around me, mean everything.
To Every Version of Motherhood
So this is to you.
To the woman who had to grow up fast to care for her younger siblings.
To the “favourite aunty” who never misses a birthday or baby shower.
To the mentor guiding younger women through life with grace.
To the one waiting, quietly, while weathering her own storm.
To the members of the sandwich generation, parenting their children while also caring for their aging parents.
To the nannies and caregivers who love and care for others’ children like their own, while often leaving their own in the care of others.
I hope this past weekend gave you a moment to celebrate yourself, or earlier in the year if you go by the British calendar. And even if no one else acknowledged you, I see you.
There’s no single way to mother.
We’re all just doing our best to make it to the next day, sometimes joyfully, sometimes barely.
Don’t let the know-it-alls of this age convince you that you’re not doing enough or that you’re doing it “wrong.”
You are purposeful.
You are valuable.
You are doing just fine.
Who mothered you in an unexpected way? Or maybe you’ve mothered others without even realising it. I’d love to hear your story, share in the comments below.
Before you go, here’s a moment of rest. A snippet from my RELAXATION card, one of the mindfulness tools I’ve been creating with Be Lifestyl.
Take a moment. Breathe. You deserve that too.
Progress, According to You
Life comes with an unspoken script.
You grow up focusing on school and picking up a skill. You pursue further education that catapults you into your first job, marking the beginning of adulthood. And if you're from a culture like mine, where African traditions shape expectations, then marriage should follow, then kids, and then, well… life as it should be.
Or so I thought.
Despite how “open-minded” our world claims to be, many of us are still silently measured by how well we fit this mold. Deviate from it, and you're seen as lost, rebellious, or somehow less accomplished.
I never actively chose to follow this script, but my path conveniently aligned with it, until it didn’t.
Getting through my PhD was the most intellectually gruelling journey I’ve faced. Halfway through, I promised myself I’d take a break if I made it to the end. I didn’t overthink the implications of being jobless; I just knew I’d earned rest. Yet, when I defended my thesis early into motherhood , that planned sabbatical - once a gift to myself - suddenly felt like a stain.
Dr. Mommy wasn’t enough.
To some, it was as if my potential evaporated because I chose stillness and care. And the worst part? I started to believe them.
Recently, still on sabbatical, I shared some joyful news with people I considered close. I had expected warmth, maybe even celebration, but instead, I was met with passive concern and subtle disapproval. It stung. One person openly questioned my decision-making. Another said little, but their energy said enough.
That moment forced me to ask:
Was I sharing for connection, or for approval?
And when approval doesn’t come, what does that say about the relationship?
Mark Manson writes in The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fck*:
“You can’t be an important and life-changing presence for some people without also being a joke and an embarrassment to others”
That quote hit me deeply. Because even when we walk with good intentions, someone will misunderstand. Someone will project. And if we’re not careful, we’ll start carrying their doubts as if they’re our truth.
But here’s what I know now:
My life’s journey - my progress - is mine.
I’d rather walk an “unconventional” path than shrink into a version of life shaped by someone else’s fears.
Lately, I’ve started choosing peace over performance. I no longer feel the urge to share everything right away, especially not for validation. Funny how we understand the delay in sharing sad news, yet feel entitled to immediate access to someone’s joy.
No one has the right, or the audacity, to define your rhythm, your story, or your success.
So if my recent decisions feel disruptive to some, good. Because I’m not here to follow a broken order, I’m here to break it.
And if you’re also ready to choose you, to define progress on your terms, and to live a life that honours your peace,
then come along—because it’s about to get beautifully catastrophic.
Have you ever held back your joy because of how it might be received?
Share your thoughts in the comments, I’d love to hear your experience.
A New Chapter
It all begins with an idea.
Yaaay, it’s my birthday!
I’ve not always been one to anticipate birthdays, but turning 33 feels different—it’s brought with it a fresh perspective on living in the present and embracing life fully.
So, why this blog? And why now?
I’ve ruminated on this idea for years, driven by my deep love for writing. Growing up, I wrote in so many notebooks—stories, reflections, random thoughts—that would’ve made for really good blog posts. But I was scared. Scared to share pieces of myself with the world. Scared of being judged for my decisions. Scared of being seen.
In 2021, during a slower phase of my PhD, I gave this idea another shot. But life, as it does, got in the way—again.
Then came the last year: an unplanned sabbatical after completing my PhD, the birth of my son, and a move to the second country I’ve called home since leaving Nigeria. It was a whirlwind, but somewhere in the stillness, I found moments of reflection, creativity—and now, execution.
I wouldn’t have imagined that the quiet would birth something I’m both terrified and excited to share.
“There’s no perfect time to begin—just the courage to begin from where you are.”
The birth of Be Lifestyl
The idea of Be Lifestyl first came to me on a sunny day in my tiny studio apartment in Birmingham, England. It was a symbol of my growth through the PhD journey, the solitude and self-discovery of living alone, and the highs and lows of figuring out adulthood. “Be” felt like the perfect word—it captured the essence of blooming, evolving, and simply being.
Strangely, the heart of BE still rings true today. But the past year has shown me that in every stage of life, we need things that help us stay grounded—tools, practices, spaces.
This blog is me choosing to start from where I am, not where I “should” be. It’s me accepting that there’s no perfect time.
Because life will always throw us something. A curveball. A delay. A detour. And in chasing the next thing, we often forget how far we’ve come—and how beautiful becoming really is.
This is an invitation
I’m building Be Lifestyl not just as a brand, but as a philosophy and platform—a place for grounded, honest, and intentional living.
Let’s be real—life is wild. Economic shifts, digital overload, and the pressure to outdo previous generations is exhausting. And yet, we keep going.
If you’re feeling the weight of it all, I hope this space becomes a soft landing. A reminder that you’re not walking alone.
This isn’t about glorifying mediocrity—it’s about celebrating the entire journey: the wins, the detours, the stillness, and the becoming.
Can you imagine a world where everything happened exactly as planned? How boring would that be?
What’s ahead
Over time, I’ll share resources—starting with snippets from my mindfulness cards—that have helped me stay centered in the midst of change.
So, if you’re in a season of change, stillness, growth, or rediscovery—welcome.
Let’s walk this path together, one mindful step at a time.
Tools that help me stay grounded—coming soon to Be Lifestyl.
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