There was a time when I thought motherhood meant you couldn’t have it all. Especially in those early days, the nightly wake-ups, cluster feeding, the endless nappy changes. I grew up thinking that to be a good mother, you had to devote your entire life to your child.
But I’ve since learned that’s not true.
That’s an outdated expectation — a belief rooted in the idea that women can’t lead successful lives and raise children.
And the opposite happened to me.
Becoming a mother ignited something in me. It paved the way for me to start chasing my goals more vigorously, even if I didn’t realise it at first.
That clarity didn’t come straight away. For the first year, I was deep in devotion. That’s when babies need you most, when they’re vulnerable, when the hormones are wild and everything feels raw and tender. But something started to shift as my son approached toddlerhood. He became a little more independent, a little more himself, and I began to think ahead to the future. To a time when he’d be dressing himself, making friends at school, cooking his own meals.
It was in that long-distance vision that I realised, he wouldn’t need me in the same way forever.
I started to reflect on my own childhood. It was turbulent at times, painful, soul-defining. And one thing stood out to me more than ever since becoming a mother myself:
My mum lost herself in motherhood.
All she knew was how to nurture. And now that me and my sister are grown, I see her struggling. Stuck. Her spark dimmed, her drive gone.
I knew that was a pattern I didn’t want to repeat.
It’s not that there’s anything wrong with giving your all to motherhood, but it’s so important not to lose yourself in the process.
I remember starting my Level 2 in counselling, I didn’t even know I was pregnant at the time. When I found out, panic set in. How would I finish my course with everything that comes with pregnancy?
But something lit up inside me. I felt an extra surge of determination, a need to continue.
I completed the course and gave birth to my son, and the doubt came rushing back.
This was it, I thought. This was as far as I’d get with my dream career.
Everything felt overwhelming.
But slowly, something shifted again. I looked at this little human who depended on me, but would also look up to me. And that’s when I made the decision to start my Level 3.
My son was around 16 months old. I found a childminder who could care for him on Tuesdays and Thursdays while I studied and carved out some time for myself.
That was the hardest part, not the course itself, but placing him in the care of someone I didn’t know well yet. It took trust. It took letting go of guilt. But I reminded myself, I wasn’t just returning to work.
I was chasing a dream.
My dream.
A dream I had always carried, but didn’t have the time or finances to pursue, until now.
And the timing couldn’t have been more aligned.
Now that I’ve completed my Level 3, I feel more determined than ever. Excited for the next stage of becoming a counsellor. Committed to continuing my writing, healing myself, and rebuilding my identity.
It’s not always easy holding both, the routine and the risk, the naps and the notebooks, the school bags and soul goals. But this is the version of motherhood I’m building.
A version where my son sees me not only caring for him, but also caring for myself.
A version where I show up in soft clothes and fierce purpose.
Because the truth is, my dreams don’t take away from him.
They make me more me, and that’s who I want him to know.
There are moments I still feel guilty. When I carve out time to write, or think about what I want to build for myself. But then I remind myself:
I’m not just raising a child.
I’m raising myself, too.
And I want him to grow up knowing that women can be everything.
Gentle and ambitious. Loving and layered. Present and purposeful.
So here I am, a mum with a dream.
And I’m slowly learning… that’s more than okay.
That’s powerful.
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