Four Children, Four Mothers, One Me

This summer, I carved out time to be with each of my four children individually. No big plans, no distractions—just the simple gift of presence, one-on-one. It was such a joy to sit with each of them, to laugh, to listen, and to really connect in ways that often get lost in the rush of everyday life.

What struck me most was how differently each of them receives me. To one, I am too soft. To another, I have been too hard. Each is convinced that I treat their sibling with more leniency. I had to smile—four children, raised in the same home, yet four completely different perspectives. It reminded me of something powerful: every child experiences a different version of their mother, no matter how hard she tries to be as fair as possible.

My older daughters, now young adults, reflected back to me how much I’ve changed over the years. They noticed that I listen more deeply now. That I am slower to judge, quicker to understand. That I carry a gentleness I didn’t always have when they were younger. Their words were beautiful, but they also carried a quiet ache—because they didn’t get as much of this “new me.” This version of their mother makes the biggest impact on their younger siblings now.

And yet, in true sibling irony, my younger ones aren’t always thrilled about this more attentive, caring version of me—they sometimes wish I would just leave them alone.   I smile at that realization. It was a humbling reminder that there really is no perfect formula. No matter how hard we try, each child will see us through their own lens, their own timing, their own place in our family story. And no matter where you are in life or which end of the stick you get, you always feel that the grass is greener on the other side.

As mothers, we often believe that with practice we’ll get better—that by the fourth child, we’ll have it figured out. But the truth is, parenting is not a skill to be mastered. It is a lifelong journey of evolving, adapting, and starting over with the unique qualities of each child. What worked for one child doesn’t necessarily work for another. What worked ten years ago doesn’t work in a world where TikTok and instant access to information shape the way our children see themselves and the world.

There is no “one way” to be a mother. There is only showing up, day after day, and allowing yourself to grow alongside your children. No matter how much experience you have or how old you are, you always have the capacity to learn and grow.

When I look back, I see that each of my children has been a mirror for me. They’ve reflected my flaws, my blind spots, my growth, and my resilience. They’ve helped me shed old versions of myself and step into new ones. They are the reason I am not the same woman I was yesterday—and tomorrow, I will not be the same mother I am today.

And that, perhaps, is the greatest truth of motherhood: it is not linear. It’s not a straight line from inexperience to mastery. It’s a circle, a spiral—an endless unfolding of who we are becoming through the lens of those who need us most.

• Parenthood is not about perfection—it’s about presence.

• It’s not about getting it “right”—it’s about growing together.

• No child will ever experience the same mother twice—and that is a gift.

When I think of the years ahead, when my home may grow quiet and I step into the season of an empty nest, I don’t imagine an ending. I dream of possibility. Perhaps even one day, the chance to adopt, to welcome another child into my heart, and to once again evolve into someone new.

But here is the truth I treasure most: my children are not only shaping the mother I am—they are shaping the woman I am. Every stumble and every triumph, every hard conversation and every burst of laughter—they have been carving away at my rough edges, revealing a version of me who is stronger, wiser, softer, and braver than before.

And this is what I know with certainty:Motherhood is not about holding on. It is about loving so completely, so unconditionally, that our children can one day step into the world with confidence, carrying not our presence but the imprint of our love.

The real mastery of motherhood is in the letting go—raising them to soar, then standing back with pride as they fly.

And when they rise, I rise too.

That is the beauty of motherhood.

It is not only the gift I give my children.

It is the greatest, most transformative gift they have given to me.

The Dance of Motherhood

"Every child is both my teacher and my student—guiding me to shed who I was and become someone new, again and again." – Faiza Chaudhary