Motherhood: The Mess, the Magic and the Love That Never Ends

My pregnancy felt endless. I was uncomfortable and bloated from the start and every smell felt like a personal attack on my poor nose. Then came the growing belly, hips that kept slipping out of alignment and nights that turned into a cycle of waking up every thirty minutes just to pee. I wouldn’t call it a “glow” more like survival with snacks.

But something beautiful carried me through: hypnobirthing. I practised meditation throughout my pregnancy and it allowed me to connect deeply with my daughter before I even held her in my arms. It also gave me the tools to focus my mind during labour. My labour lasted twenty-three hours, but to me it didn’t feel that long. My body knew what to do. Yes, it was painful but it was also magical. The best experience of my life.

She was born at 9:31pm, and by 5am we were already back home. That very same day, I bundled her up and went out to the local shop. Honestly, I wanted to head into town and parade her around for everyone to see, but my family convinced me that maybe that wasn’t the best idea. Still, I couldn’t resist.

I wanted to show the world what I had done. I had grown this perfect little human, I had birthed her and I felt proud in a way I never had before. On that short walk to the shop, I cried. I cried because I was proud. I cried because I felt unstoppable, like nothing could break me. I also cried because I was hormonal, overwhelmed and so, so tired. But in that moment, pushing the pram and looking down at her little face, I thought: this is it, this is the start of everything.

The baby stage wasn’t just exhaustion it was love in its rawest form. She would fall asleep on my chest, her tiny breaths syncing with mine and my heart felt so full I thought it might burst. I’d hold her little hands, kiss her perfect toes and breathe in that sweet newborn smell that every mum secretly wishes she could bottle forever.

Even her tiny laughs the gurgles that bubbled up out of nowhere were enough to turn my entire day around. I loved her fiercely from the very moment I found out I was pregnant. Deep down, I always knew she was a girl, even when everyone else insisted otherwise. And every smile, every sound, every sleepy cuddle confirmed what I’d felt all along: she was mine, and I was hers.

Of course, there were the sleepless nights and the never ending feeds. I remember one day meeting friends for coffee, running on almost no sleep and as I sat there with my baby, the entire café seemed to sway around me. I was so tired I half expected the floor to give way.

Nights were broken into two or three hour chunks, waking up to breastfeed again and again, my body aching, my mind foggy. Then came the teething long evenings of crying, soothing, pacing the room, praying she’d settle.

And of course, there was her “music phase.” She would only sleep if Bob Marley was playing, or bizarrely enough drum and bass. So there I was at 2am, swaying in the dark, half asleep myself, while reggae and drum and bass kept us both going.

But then she smiled at me, and even though people teased, “That’s not a smile, it’s wind,” I knew better. To me, it was everything.

As she grew, the milestones started coming fast. One day she was lying on her blanket, and the next she was crawling straight into the fridge, grabbing handfuls of grated cheese and stuffing them into her mouth like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted. The washing basket became her personal treasure chest, and I’d find socks and shirts scattered across the floor as she laughed at her own mess.

Her first word was “mama.” Hearing it for the first time was like my heart had been waiting for that exact sound all along. I’d watch her sleep sometimes, her tiny chest rising and falling, her lashes resting against her cheeks and I’d just cry. Cry because she was perfect. Cry because I was overwhelmed. Cry because love this big is almost too much to hold.

Toddlerhood arrived like a whirlwind. Suddenly she had opinions, endless energy and the most dramatic way of throwing herself onto the floor when she didn’t get her way. One of her very first stages was simply saying “no” to everything. No to food, no to bed, no to shoes, no to me. It became her favourite word, and she used it like a superpower.

She also had a flair for the dramatic. One of her favourite lines was, “My legs stopped working!” usually shouted just as we were about to leave the house.

The independence came with chaos too. She wanted to do everything herself, from putting on socks (backwards, usually) to choosing her outfits. And of course, whatever I did was wrong if she asked me to play pretend, I’d never do it the “correct” way. But even in those frustrating moments, her laughter had a way of undoing every bit of stress.

Mornings were often a blur of me repeating “eat your food” on a loop so she wouldn’t be hungry at preschool. By the time she was finally dressed, fed and out the door, I was already exhausted. And yet I’d cry at the school gates, because watching her grow into her own little person made me so proud it hurt.

On the hard days, when the tantrums and the guilt caught up to me, my husband was always there. Sometimes all I needed was his hug a reminder that I wasn’t doing this alone. And then she looks at me with those big eyes and says, “I love you so much forever,” or “You’re the best cook in the whole world,” or “You’re my best friend.” And in those moments, every sleepless night, every tantrum, every ounce of guilt fades away.

Motherhood is messy, magical and exhausting all at once. It’s a daily dance of laughter and tears, of chaos and quiet, of wanting five minutes alone and then missing her the second she’s asleep. Sometimes I wish time would just slow down, so I could hold onto these small moments before they vanish.

Because one day she’ll be grown, with her own life and family and I’ll miss the days of Bob Marley lullabies, grated cheese raids, and even the dramatic “no’s.”

Motherhood isn’t perfect, but neither am I. And maybe that’s what makes it so beautiful. Also, caffeine. Always caffeine.

Motherhood

Parenting

Pregnancy and Birth

Family Life

Toddlers

Love

Exhausted but Happy

Real Life Parenting

Mother’s Love

Parenting Journey