This is the moment I realized Motherhood is raising Love and Finding Purpose in the Pause. It was one of those quiet afternoons where the sun felt warm but kind, the kind of day that doesn’t rush you. I stood outside the school gate, waiting — well, we were waiting — me and my little boy, who was just three and barely tall enough to see over the school fence. His eyes scanning the crowd of parents and children that filled the school exit lane.
Then, suddenly, his eyes lit up.
“Akka!” he shouted, his whole body bursting with excitement. Before I could even process it, he ran to her — those quick, tiny, toddler steps wobbling in joy.
And my seven-year-old, her bag bouncing on her shoulders, ponytail swinging, face bright like the morning sun. She saw him and ran too. They met halfway, right at the school gate, like a scene that would melt any heart — she bent down, and hugged him tight. He squealed, wrapping his arms around her neck. She kissed his cheek, and both of them laughed in that pure, musical way only children can.
I stood there watching them, smiling like an absolute fool, trying to hold onto that exact moment — because that was the reminder I didn’t know I needed.
In that tiny moment, I realized — I must be doing something right.
The Unseen Work of a Mom’s Day
You know, there are days when I question everything. Days when my to-do list feels longer than my energy. When I feel that itch to do more — to chase my dreams, start that project, and live that version of myself I’ve always imagined.
But then, reality taps me on the shoulder — two children fighting over one thing, one constantly calling, “Amma, come,” wanting me to draw with her, write with her, explain her things again and again. And the little one, cranky almost every time, wants to be carried. There’s the piled-up laundry waiting, the clothes to be folded, the meals to cook, the floor that somehow always needs cleaning. And all night, my youngest clings to my hand like his life depends on it. By the end of the day, there’s no energy left to juggle between all the things I dream of doing.
And I pause. Because this — this is my life right now.
I remind myself — I’m not stuck here. I’m growing here. Slowly, quietly, and deeply.
Being a mom sometimes feels like living in the in-between. You’re constantly balancing the person you once were, the mother you are now, and the woman you still hope to become. And honestly, it’s hard. Some days, it feels like the world is moving ahead while you’re still learning the art of bedtime routines, snack-time negotiations, and meal planning.
But then, moments like today happen — a simple hug between siblings, that sparkle in their eyes, the way they look at you as if their whole world begins and ends at home — and suddenly, all those doubts soften. You remember why you chose to be here.
The Mental Struggle Nobody Sees
I often find myself in a tug-of-war between wanting to do it all and wanting to just be here.
There’s that loud voice inside that says, “You should be doing more,” and another softer one that gently whispers, “You’re already doing enough.”
I think every mother knows this feeling — the guilt that sneaks in when you finally sit down for a quiet moment, the frustration of craving your own space, the longing for something beyond the routine… and yet, the fear of missing some of your children’s needs.
I sometimes look at my kids and think — they’re only this little once. The hugs, the mess, the endless stories, the fights, the complaints, the constant “Amma!” — even their anxious attachment — none of it will last forever.
And that’s when gratitude softly takes over. That I get to be here for it all. That I have the privilege to watch them grow, laugh, argue, make up, and slowly become their own little people — right before my eyes. Even on the days when I question my pace in life, I remind myself — These are the years that will shape who they become.
The Quiet Kind of Success
Nobody gives you awards for these things. No one claps for the patience it takes to manage meltdowns, or the emotional effort it takes to stay calm when everything around you feels loud and chaotic. But success doesn’t always come wrapped in achievements, paychecks, or applause.
I am the kind of person who has always been ambitious. My mind constantly wanders to ideas and dreams — even as I care for my family. Now, of course i have some time while my children are at school, I use it to write blogs, paint, draw, study, and learn new things for my dream work. I can’t stay quiet or stagnant; it’s who I am. But, none of this comes with paychecks, awards, or recognition. Yet I do it anyway — for myself, because nurturing my own growth is just as important as nurturing my children. Motherhood has not dimmed that part of me. If anything, it is teaching me how to balance my ambitions with presence, patience, and purpose. I am learning that nurturing children and nurturing myself are not opposing forces — they coexist, quietly shaping each other.
Sometimes, success is simply this — Raising kind humans.
Watching your children mirror the values you quietly live every single day. Because whether we realize it or not, they’re learning from us all the time. Not just from what we say, but from how we live.
When you show patience, they learn calm. You lose your temper, they understand frustration.
When you apologize, they learn humility. You keep trying, even when life gets tough, and they learn resilience.
And when they see you showing gratitude for what you have — instead of focusing on what you don’t — they learn contentment. They learn that life doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful.
Childhood Doesn’t Wait
There’s a dream that lives quietly in the back of my mind — my dream job, the work that makes my heart race with pride and fulfillment. And sometimes, it’s painful to press pause on it. I won’t lie about that. But I also know — my dream isn’t disappearing. It’s just waiting for its right time.
For now, my focus is here — on these little humans who need me the most. On the lessons I can teach them through love, consistency, and patience. On the warmth of those school gate hugs and the bedtime talks I’ll never get back once they grow older.
One day, I’ll start that journey. I’ll walk towards my dreams — Not despite motherhood, but because of it. Because these years are shaping me too — teaching me resilience, empathy, patience, the art of multitasking, and the strength to express myself even when it’s hard. They’re teaching me a kind of emotional depth that no classroom or job ever could.
Motherhood may have slowed down my plans, but it has deepened my purpose.
Until Then…
Until that day comes, I’m choosing to find joy here.
In school pick-ups, bedtime stories, messy mornings and surprise hugs. In those small, quiet moments that remind me I’m doing just fine.
And if you’re reading this and feeling the same — that restless in-between where you’re both fulfilled and longing, happy but still dreaming — please know this:
You’re not behind. You’re just building something different — something deep and lasting.
Because, our children won’t remember how spotless the house was, or how many things we checked off our list. They’ll remember how we made them feel. How present we were. How we showed up when they need us.
So today, when I watched my son run to his sister — arms open, face glowing with love — I felt something click inside me. That tiny moment reminded me that I am raising love itself.
And that’s reason enough to keep going — to keep being better, softer, stronger.
The values and time we give, live, and speak today will quietly echo in their hearts for a Lifetime.
If you enjoyed this blog, you might also like my other one- The Beauty of Home with Little Ones where I explore how everyday moments at home become the memories and lessons that last a lifetime.
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