“Your greatest contribution to the universe may not be what you do, but the people you raise.” ~Unknown
Have you ever heard the saying: “Mom knows best” or “If mom isn’t happy, no one is”? Honestly, who decided that moms should know everything and that the entire emotional balance of the family rests squarely on their shoulders? Aren’t mothers also human? A beautiful soul navigating life trying to solve problems like everyone else? Is it fair that we put all the pressure on this one person—the master of the schedule, the executor of tasks, the gentle space where everyone can fall?
No wonder moms are so stressed out today. We have insatiable expectations—to be nurturing and productive, selfless and balanced. Let’s not forget dads, who are often criticized for not doing things “as well as mom”.
We need to take a step back. Both parents are human. They come into parenting with their own limiting beliefs, inner critics, and childhood traumas. Being a parent doesn’t mean you automatically know what you’re doing.
I will never forget driving home from the hospital with my first son. I sat in the back seat, staring at this little man, thinking, “Are they really going to let us take him home?”
A few weeks later, as I sat in his glider at his nursery, it dawned on me that I had no idea what I was doing. I try to read all the books hoping that the answers are hidden in them. But even after reading the same chapter Healthy sleep habits, happy kids At least thirty times, I still feel lost.
So, I did the natural thing – called my mom. Of course, she already had the answer. But all she said was, “This too shall pass.” At the time, her words made me angry. I didn’t have time to let things go; I needed solutions. However, over the years, I’ve come to realize that she doesn’t have all the answers either. None of us know.
This journey of figuring this out through reading books, blogging, and consulting with my mom lasted many years. I really want to be a good mother. I’m a good mother. I love my kids enough to leave little notes in their lunchboxes, tuck them in at night, and keep them safe with helmets and seat belts. But as he grew, so did the struggles, and often my fears too.
When my son entered elementary school, he began to struggle very much. At first, I thought he might just need a little extra encouragement. But when he cries while doing homework or sheds tears on our way to school, I know his feelings are deeper. He would rush through his homework so he could submit the test at the same time as the other “smart” kids. School was overwhelming for him and I was frustrated watching it.
Eventually, he was diagnosed with ADHD and dyslexia, and a wave of conflicting emotions washed over me. I feel comforted knowing he now has support, but the meetings, the Individualized Education Plan, the tutoring—all of it is stressing me out.
Sitting in meetings with teachers and experts, I would feel my chest tighten and tears well up in my eyes. I wish he had an easier path, but I realize I can’t just “fix” it. I was the mother, the one who was supposed to protect him, but there was nothing I could do to face these challenges that he had to face alone. My heart ached for him and I was often ashamed of my emotional breakdowns.
Looking back, I realize how many of those tears were for him—and for me. I’m too spread out. Work was heavy, my marriage was strained, and I had little to give. My life is like a juggling act, and every new challenge threatens to tip the balance. The layers of fear, responsibility, and love are always there, piling up, and I feel the weight of each one.
Then came the teenage years. During those years, the stakes were higher, the weight of the choices heavier, and my fear of his decisions—who he would be with, the paths he might choose—became more intense.
I remember one day I was standing in the garage arguing with him. The atmosphere was tense and we were all yelling – my fear turned to anger. I don’t even remember what we were arguing about; it’s a blur. But the shame and guilt afterwards were so obvious.
The truth is, each stage of my son’s life presents a new version of me – a woman, a mother, learning and trying to balance it all. My own fears of failure and not being enough would surface in unexpected ways. But somewhere along the way I realized that my fears and need for control were driving a wedge between us. The more I try to hold on tight, the more I lose sight of the tender love and wonder I want to bring to our relationship.
So, I started working on myself. I went to therapy and hired a coach—not because I was broken, but because I knew I wasn’t showing up as a parent and becoming the person I wanted to be.
Through my healing journey, I learned that my need for control stemmed from fear—the fear that if I didn’t do everything perfectly, he would somehow slip away. I worry about his future and that he will face pain or difficulty. But as I began to peel back those layers, I began to see that my fear was not protecting him; This prevents me from fully loving and trusting him.
As I did this inner work, something changed. My attitude softened. I’m not that reactive or rigid. I found that I could set boundaries from a place of love instead of fear, listen without rushing to a solution, and let him make his own choices.
I stopped focusing on making sure everything was perfect and focused more on simply being. I became less scared, more open – and honestly, I started enjoying life more. I am finding joy in the little things again, in the mundane moments that I used to take for granted. He noticed.
My children started to see me differently. They tell me I’m more patient, kinder, and even funnier. This cycle of healing—I work on myself and let my growth ripple into how I show up for them—creates a connection that only gets stronger. The more I invest in myself, the more balanced I feel and the deeper my love for them becomes.
So, what about the old saying “If mom isn’t happy, no one is happy”? Maybe we should say, “No one is happy all the time, but if mom is struggling and she needs time and space to work on her own issues, everyone in the family will benefit.” Same goes for dad. If he left, he needed to get back to the life we had. Both parents need to heal, grow, and reveal themselves so that they can be fully present for their children.
Just like a thermostat in your home, if it’s too hot or too cold, you can adjust it to find comfort. The same goes for parenting. When we take the time to work on ourselves, we create the right environment for our children to grow—not perfect, but balanced and loving.
It’s never too late to start. Let’s embark on this healing journey together so that we can be the best parents we can be—not because we have all the answers, but because we are willing to work, grow, and love along the way.
