Motherhood Feels Lonely and I think, parents don’t need more advice — they need community... Five years ago, I wrote my first letter to my daughter. She hadn’t even been born yet. She was still happily living in her tiny one-bedroom apartment — my belly — slowly running out of space and getting ready to move out into the world. I remember that moment clearly. I was very pregnant. Very happy. And very scared. It was the middle of COVID when we decided to have a child. Looking

I am not sure how it is in different cultures, but I’ve had conversations with parents from very different parts of the world — Asia, Africa, Europe, South America, North America. Different households. Different backgrounds. And you would think… it can’t be the same. It can’t be so similar. But surprisingly, it is. My generation has a very small foundation when it comes to handling children “correctly.” Not because our parents didn’t love us — but because they didn’t always h

Letting go of perfectionism, asking for help, and building a parenting community For most of my life, I believed something very strongly. Strong people do things alone. As an only child, I grew up trying to be the one who made everyone proud. The one who did things right. The one who didn’t cause problems. I wanted to please my parents. I wanted to be good enough. I wanted them to look at me and feel proud. But somehow, no matter how hard I tried, I always felt like I fell sh

As soon as I became a mother, something in me changed. I became extremely protective. I loved my child in a way I didn’t even know was possible. A beautiful, perfect little girl. And I know now that when I looked at her, I was also seeing something else… I was seeing myself. The little girl I used to be. The one who felt alone. Only this time, it was different. She had me. She had us. She had protection. My dad loved her. He was the proudest grandfather. He showed her picture

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about independence. Not the dramatic kind people imagine — leaving everything behind, starting over, becoming someone new overnight. I mean the quieter kind. Having something that belongs to you. Your own work, your own plans, your own confidence, your own direction. And if I’m honest, I want that now more than ever. My daughter is growing up. She needs me differently now. Not less, but differently. She is building her own little world, becomi

It just happened to be my birthday. And Mother’s Day. And my child’s birthday. All at once. Because our birthdays are so close, we always celebrate big. There’s a party in the afternoon for my gorgeous little girl — and I honestly feel like the luckiest person in the world to have her. Then in the evening, we invite people over. Some of them come from far away, people we don’t see often, and it feels important to bring everyone together. I love that part. I really do. I love

As I mentioned in my previous post, this year I decided to work on my weight, my healing, and my relationship with myself. And as a parent, that’s complicated. Because while I am trying to heal, I am also raising a child. I love her more than anything. I want her to be happy. That’s my priority. But I also believe in structure. And sometimes she hates that structure. Sometimes when I say, “Okay, let’s do it your way,” she panics and says, “But I’m just a child.” And she’s rig

This year started like a speedboat. For the last five years, I felt like I was moving forward with my handbrake on. Trying. Working. Surviving. But stuck. And now… things are happening. It is amazing. And exhausting. The year began with two surgeries at once — a gastric sleeve and gallbladder removal. I’ve struggled with my weight for most of my adult life. Funny enough, I wasn’t an overweight child. I was tall, strong, always moving — bikes, trees, football, basketball. I st

After giving birth, it’s often said that it takes six months for internal wounds to heal, twelve months for physical recovery, two years for hormones to settle, and up to five years to rediscover your identity. I remember reading this and thinking it was funny. Five years? No chance. I had plans. I loved planning. I loved working, creating, doing things I was passionate about. I knew myself. I knew how I functioned. I was convinced this wouldn’t apply to me. And then life sai