My son just turned TWO and while the balloons and cake filled our weekend with joy, my heart felt something deeper: the quiet ache of time moving too fast.

Because birthdays, for mothers, aren’t just celebrations. They’re reminders.
Of how much time has passed.
Of how much we’ve changed.
Of how much we’ve had to let go.

The Paradox of Growth

There’s something quietly heartbreaking about watching your baby become a little boy. I felt like Alaric didn’t have a long baby phase. He dropped the baby fat pretty quick and he was walking by 10 months. Now many parents might think that’s a flex but in reality, I felt like I had to keep up with him. There was little time for rest so motherhood for me, was and still is exhausting. 

The first words, the first steps, they come like fireworks, lighting up everything in their path. And yet, every “first” also means a “last” quietly slipped away.

The last diaper change.
The last time mama, dada now Me and Ba or mommy and daddy.
The last time his hand instinctively reached for mine before running off to explore the world.

No one warns you or talks about the emotional whiplash of motherhood, how pride and heartbreak can exist in the same breath, the same hour, the same day. How watching your child grow can feel like losing tiny versions of them over and over again. But also embracing a new version each time. It is so bittersweet. This weekend was filled with a lot of bittersweet emotions. 

The Emotions No One Talks About

Motherhood is a constant series of emotional goodbyes disguised as progress.
When he learned to feed himself, I celebrated but longed to feel needed. When he ran toward the playground without looking back, I cheered and then swallowed the lump in my throat. 

For the most part, Alaric sleeps through most of the night but comes over in the early morning to finish out his sleep. I cherish those moments because I know they will be the last. I want to hold onto certain phases, certain things that only babies do and I feel so helpless when they outgrow them. 

There’s joy, yes. But there’s also grief.
Not the kind that breaks you, but the kind that lingers, a soft ache that begs, slow down.

Sometimes I scroll through photos from his first year and wonder how that tiny baby turned into this chatty, curious, opinionated little boy full of big emotions. And sometimes I feel guilty, for missing parts of the early days, for wishing them away when I was too tired to function, for not realizing how fleeting it all was. When you’re in survival mode, this is normal. 

No one talks enough about this quiet grief mothers carry, the grief of time. The grief of letting go and embracing the new phases. Everything is constantly changing and I love every new phase more and more. 

Embracing Change in Our Littles and Ourselves

As my son enters this new phase of toddlerhood, I can feel motherhood shifting too.
I’m no longer the constant comfort of breastmilk and rocking chairs. I’m now the hand that steadies him as he climbs, the voice that cheers him on from a few steps away or that hug he needs after falling. 

He’s becoming his own person and so am I.

The routines that once defined our days have changed. The nap schedules, the feeding rituals, the baby gear cluttering our living space, diapers and wipes all fading away as a memory. There’s freedom in that, yes. But there’s also a strange emptiness. We still have diaper genies laying around and we have unopened diaper packages. 

It makes me realize that motherhood isn’t just about raising children, it’s so much more. It’s about growing alongside them. Each stage asks us to evolve, reflect, let go of expectations. To release the old versions of ourselves, just as they outgrow theirs. It feels like shedding old skin, like reptiles. 

The Gift of Presence

So maybe the secret isn’t to fight time, but to make peace with it. To accept the inevitable and learn to stay present. 

To live deeply in the fleeting moments, without needing to freeze them. Capture them through photos and videos. Create so many core memories and cherish them. 

I’ve started taking more photos, and luckily for me, I was able to come up with a system where I could be in them. I want my son to remember me not as the mom behind the camera, but the one laughing beside him.

Because presence is the only thing time can’t take from us.

When I catch him talking to his toys, when he calls out “Mama, come!” In that determined toddler voice, I try to memorize not the moment, but the feeling. The warmth. The sound. The awe.

The Lesson of Letting Go

No one tells you that motherhood is really about mastering the art of letting go, again and again, in small and tender ways.

You let go of their hand so they can take their first steps.
You let go of their crib so they can climb into a big-kid bed.
You let go of routines, expectations, and control, because growth and autonomy demand it.

But here’s what I’ve learned: letting go doesn’t mean losing connection. It means trusting the roots you’ve built. The foundation you’re working so hard to establish can hold itself now. 

That’s what Rooted motherhood really is, knowing that even as they grow up and away, they’re still grounded in the love you planted. The traditions you’ve made. The blueprint that is instilled in their subconscious. 

It’s not about holding on tighter, it’s about believing that love remains, even when little hands don’t always reach for yours.

A Love Letter to Two

Two years ago, he made me a mother. An event that changed me, my marriage and my life forever. This year, he made me brave enough to let him grow and let go. My letter to Alaric goes something like this. 

Dear Alaric,

The world feels unsteady right now. But in your world, what matters most is love — from Mommy, Daddy, Naga, and Momo. You remind us daily what unconditional love looks like. We love who you are and who you are becoming. 

Thank you for showing me what unconditional love feels like. I don’t think most people know what that feels like. You do it so naturally and unapologetically. I am so proud of you and all the things you’ve accomplished so far, all the milestones you’re hitting and your ability to be kind and generous. 

It is so fun watching you figure out who you want to be and your ability to adapt and persevere through any challenge you are facing. I am so excited to continue this journey with you as we learn how to navigate the next phase together. 

Love, 

Me

Growing in motherhood

I don’t know about you but so much has changed not only for Alaric but for me in a year’s time. I’m breaking generational trauma and cycles. I continue to seek guidance from my therapist to be my best self. 

As the tantrums grow in numbers, so does my patience, understanding and compassion. I have to reparent my inner child to parent my actual child in a way that I was not parented. The amount of grace and space to feel these big emotions, process them and accept them has been revolutionary for myself and Finn. 

When we think about giving our children the things we didn’t have. Most people may think of money, toys, higher education, vacations, etc. But what I strive to give Alaric what i didn’t have is acceptance, validation and the ability to work through emotions independently without needing an outside source. 

The amount of work mothers put in to make these generational changes and self awareness and healing in combination with raising a healthy happy child, is no easy feat. Maybe that’s why you’re exhausted at the end of the day after cooking and cleaning up family dinner. Give yourself grace and also give yourself the credit. 

I feel kindness is such a rare commodity these days. The world feels colder and desolate in America lately so create a warm and inviting environment in your home not just for your kids but for yourself. This too shall pass. 

In summary… 

Motherhood has taught me that time doesn’t just grow our children, it grows us, too. It stretches our hearts, reshapes our priorities, and teaches us how to love unconditionally as if we could die tomorrow. Time can be a foe but it can also be an ally to get us through the hard times. 

So as I watch my son blow out his candles, I whisper a quiet prayer of gratitude.
For every sleepless night.
For every giggle and tantrum.
For every tiny goodbye that makes room for a new beginning.

All the good, the bad and the ugly are fleeting. The thing about time is, it never rewinds. Once it’s gone, it’s gone, so make the most of it. Stay as present as you can. That unfinished work? The email you need to send? The text you need to respond to? All of those things can wait. Because growth and time doesn’t wait for anyone. Time is also not guaranteed. 

It’s okay to not respond to a text. Supportive friends and family are not going to be offended. It’s okay to set boundaries at work that your work day ends at 5:00 and you will address any concerns the next day. It’s okay to live like you are dying because honestly, I think if we all did that, we wouldn’t regret the time “wasted” on things that weren’t as important. 

Motherhood for me isn’t measured in milestones. It is measured in moments. The ones where I live fully, laugh loudly and smile fondly on the memories I continue to make with my son. No matter how grim and dark society and the world is becoming. 

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure

Measure a year?

In daylights?

In sunsets?

In midnights?

In cups of coffee?

In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife?

In five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure a year in the life?

What were your emotions at every birthday? Did you cry like I did for an entire weekend? What helped and what didn’t? Leave a comment, send an email to connect!