I often joke that I would have been a perfect mother to one child.

But what motherhood does is it pushes you past your brink, past your comfort level and forces you to show your hand. It brings up your shadows, your wildest fears and it asks you to level up because what’s at stake is so much bigger, so much more important than anything else.

Parenting one child seemed like I needed to be everything, the whole world for one human. Parenting two made me realize I couldn’t do it all. That’s when I tagged my mom in. And parenting three means I’ve run out of hands, legs, sides of my brain and eyeballs to evenly split up. It means I truly live in the in between always running from one to another and on the way, being interrupted by the third.

What’s funny is that parenting is all relatively hard. It is hard no matter how many kids you have or don’t have. I say I would have been a perfect mother to one child but I know it would have been it’s own version of hard.

Ultimately, I was never meant to be a mother to one. I was always meant to be pushed to these edges and to be faced with these lessons. Where I want to land in the end is somewhere between perfection and good enough.


I write everyday because it allows me to voice what is at the surface. Once that is out of my head, I can dig in another layer deeper. My daily writing practice has been my greatest exploration of self and humanity. Sign up here to receive these thought nuggets in your inbox on the daily.