Motherhood is a part of my life I’ve kept quiet for a long time.

Not because I was hiding it, but because it felt like something that needed protecting. For eight years, I’ve kept that part of me close. My son, King, is my golden child. Some people know I’m a mother in passing — maybe they’ve seen me with him once, or heard it through someone else but it’s never been something I’ve felt the need to publicly centre.

I became a mother at 21, at a time in my life where everything felt heavy. I remember praying, not out of routine but out of desperation. I asked God to give me a reason to keep going, because I genuinely didn’t feel like I had one.

What does it mean to ask for a reason to live… and then find out you’re pregnant?

I won’t lie and say I was happy straight away. I wasn’t. I was confused, overwhelmed, and mostly thinking, how are we actually going to do this? There was also a part of me that couldn’t ignore the timing. Is this God answering me? Or is this something I’m going to regret?

A phrase I’ve heard far too often in my childhood – just not in my own voice. It was said to me in different ways. That my existence had made life harder. That things might have been different if I wasn’t here. It wasn’t always loud, but it stayed long enough to shape how I understood myself. So when that question became mine, it didn’t feel unfamiliar. I’ve had to unlearn that.

And if I’m being honest, after finding out I was pregnant; It didn’t feel like a blessing at first. It felt like pressure. But somewhere along the way, that changed.

Motherhood makes you realise how different people are in the way they love and the way they show up for their children or siblings. Some people share everything about their children – their lives are visible, documented, celebrated out loud. I’ve never really felt like that kind of parent.

And sometimes I ask myself why. Trust me, I criticise myself more than you could imagine.

Honestly, there’s a level of fear in it. A fear that I won’t be able to protect him enough in a world that I didn’t feel protected in myself. So I’ve always been intentional about what I show, what I say, and how much access I give.

I think a lot about the things I don’t want him to experience. Feeling out of place. Feeling unseen or unwanted. Seeing himself different from peers through colour instead of individuality. And I wonder, is it even possible to shield someone from that? Or am I just trying to do better with what I didn’t have?

That’s where it gets hard.

Because the more you care, the more you feel like you should be doing more. There’s always that quiet question in the back of your mind – am I present enough? Am I giving him what he needs? Am I getting this parenting thing right?

And at the same time, you’re still trying to figure yourself out.

Still healing.
Still chasing that degree
Still learning what it means to be okay.

There’s a constant pull between working on yourself and making sure your child doesn’t miss out on the things you once needed. A present parent. Guidance. Someone who sees them fully and supports them through every stage of their life. Someone who’s not embarrassed to scream or cheer across the room just to see that little smile on their face.

It’s not always balanced nor is it always easy. But what I’ve come to understand is that motherhood for me, has never been about getting everything right. It’s about showing up, even when I’m still learning and afraid of the outcome. It’s about choosing to stay, even on the days that feel heavy where giving up entirely seems like the easiest option financially, emotionally, and socially.

There’s so much more to tell you as time passes by reader.

Until then, just know that…
he became the reason I didn’t leave.