Before I became a mom, I thought I had a pretty good idea of what to expect. Love, diapers, sleepless nights. I read the books. I made the lists. But there were so many things no one told me. Not because they didn’t want to, but because you can only understand some things once you’re in it.
No one told me watching my kids would feel like my heart was living outside of my body.
No one told me motherhood would be the most beautiful, challenging, joy-filled journey I’d ever take.
No one told me how many decisions I’d make in a single day, or how much weight they’d carry.
No one told me that with every day I mother, I’d understand my mother more deeply.
No one told me I’d question myself daily, even when I’m doing my best.
No one told me love could be both heavy and light.
No one told me motherhood can be lonely, even when you’re never alone.
No one told me how much my identity would shift, and how long it might take to find myself again.
No one told me joy could be quiet, a hand in mine, a sleepy smile, a crayon drawing on the fridge, a little voice that says “I love you.”
No one told me how much of motherhood is invisible.
No one told me I’d sometimes grieve the life I had, and feel guilty about that too.
No one told me how deeply I’d need other moms.
No one told me I’d become a walking contradiction: exhausted and fulfilled, overwhelmed and grateful.
No one told me motherhood would be my greatest challenge and my greatest accomplishment.
And yet . . .
In all the unknowns, in all the quiet and loud moments, I have never felt love like this.
So if no one told you these things either, you’re not alone.
Here’s to the unspoken truths, the unexpected lessons, and the beautiful, messy, sacred gift of motherhood.
Originally published on the author’s Substack
by Esther Vandersluis 
