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.