The Battles We Lose, The Battles We Win
I met a friend yesterday.
She’s very early in her pregnancy journey.
And there it was - immediately visible.
The way she walks.
The way she speaks.
The dreamy look in her eyes.
That blissful naivety of first-time mothers.
And the truth is:
you need it.
You cannot set out on a journey already knowing the hardships.
You would never walk willingly into the lion’s den that is motherhood.
Your mind simply cannot comprehend the highs and lows waiting for you.
That innocence isn’t stupidity.
It’s protection.
It’s the veil that allows life to continue.
I watch first-time mothers-to-be and I celebrate them -
they are exactly where they need to be.
And then I look at pregnant women already holding a child.
An entirely different energy.
Seasoned warriors.
Her body remembers the pain of labour.
The bone-deep exhaustion of sleepless nights.
She knows what lies ahead.
Her feet are grounded.
The look in her eyes is knowing.
She is a brave woman.
She is going for it again.
And she is ready - because she knows she is shielded by love.
Our generation is craving a new path.
A new way.
And often our parents look at us with irritation, even resentment.
We didn’t have it better either.
Why should you?
That’s how I did it.
You turned out fine. You survived.
But the arrogance of youth - that quiet belief that we can do better - isn’t disrespect.
It’s life force itself.
We don’t want to just survive.
We want to live.
To thrive.
To flourish.
It’s life’s impulse to evolve.
Without it, nothing changes.
I see my friend standing in my house.
Looking at the toys overflowing every corner.
At the screen time I allow.
At the jacket I no longer force onto my child
because I simply don’t have the fight in me.
And I see the horror on her face.
That horror reflects my lost battles.
What she can’t see - yet -
are the battles I won.
The battles of staying with my emotions
instead of suppressing them or lashing out.
Of becoming emotionally available.
Of choosing maturity over perfection.
Of learning presence - and modelling it for my children.
Some battles were lost - yes.
And they were the price of everything I gained.
We show up every day to the best of our ability.
Some days we try and do great.
Some days we don’t have it in us.
And that, too, is okay.
Because maybe I lost several battles,
but I also lost other things along the way:
And I’m proud to say:
I won the most important battles of all.
I learned to love myself.
To love who I am in this moment.
Not the ideal mother.
Not the imagined version.
Who I truly am.
I learned to love the moment with my children -
not the Instagram pictures,
but the quiet perfection of being.
The courage of holding emotions -
theirs and my own -
with loving tenderness.
Radical acceptance.
This is what ended all the wars that lived in me.
This is where I found peace.
That’s why I can now say -
without bitterness or bravado -
yes, it’s hard.
And yes, I pray for you, my beloved friend,
that you can do it ten times better than me -
my messy, chaotic, deeply-feeling, sensitive self.
Because I believe in your dreams.
I believe in the arrogance of youth.
I believe in the wide-eyed innocence of first-time mothers.
I believe in your power.
And I believe in the collective power of mothers
mothering mothers.
Not by stealing their journey.
Not by stripping away their innocence.
But by honouring their true power
and the natural flow of life.
Creating fertile ground
where love, peace, and natural harmony can grow -
for us
and for all future generations to come.
