I don’t always know how to explain the version of me I’m in right now.
I’m a mom.
A wife.
A homeschool mom.
A woman healing through some things.
A writer trying to build something meaningful.
And somehow, I’m still a person trying to understand herself better too.
Maybe this is what still becoming in motherhood looks like for me. Messy, honest, emotional, and still unfolding.
This is that piece of me.
Before Motherhood
Before I was anybody’s mom, I was lonely.
Quietly, deeply lonely.
The kind of lonely that doesn’t always show on the outside.
I was shy.
I was trusting.
I believed people I probably shouldn’t have believed.
And I learned hard lessons young, the kind that leave marks.
The kind I carried for years without fully knowing I was carrying them.
Looking back, I remember longing for something I couldn’t quite name back then.
Not fame.
Not perfection.
Not some picture-perfect life.
Just… fullness.
A home that was loud with the right kind of noise.
Little people to have adventures with.
Somebody who always had me.
And somebody I always had.
I wanted to fill the silence with something that loved me back.
Back then, I didn’t know how much that longing would shape everything.
The choices I made.
The lessons I had to learn twice.
The versions of myself I had to leave behind before I could become something better.
But I just knew I wanted more than what I had known.
And I was willing to go through a lot to find it.
This Is the Season I’m In Right Now
Most days feel chaotic.
There is a teenager in my house.
A preteen finding her own way.
And a baby who is still so new to this world.
I homeschool, which sounds either impressive or insane depending on the day. Honestly, it can feel like both at the same time.
On top of that, I have a back injury that some mornings brings me to the floor.
I’ve shared more about the back injury that changed so much of my postpartum season in When I Couldn’t Lift My Baby: My Postpartum Back Injury.
I am also building something here, this blog and this space, with no guarantee that anyone will find it or that I’m doing it right.
Most days, I don’t fully know what I’m doing.
Some days, I don’t know if I can handle all of it.
The questions get loud.
And I wonder if I’m enough for all the people who need me.
Why I Keep Going
But here is the thing I keep coming back to.
I push anyway.
Not because it’s easy.
Not because I have it figured out.
But because I know what I’m pushing toward.
Something better than what I came from.
Something my kids will never have to recover from.
Because honestly, I didn’t have the kind of childhood that made this easy.
I had to learn some things the hard way.
I learned early that not everyone who should protect you actually does.
And somewhere in all of that, I made a quiet decision.
My kids would know something different.
They would know that the person who was supposed to show up for them actually did.
Even when it was hard.
Even when I was scared.
Even when I had no idea what I was doing.
That decision is why I push through the chaos.
It is why I get back up off the floor.
And it is why I’m still here, still trying, still becoming.
The Moment That Gets Me Through
At the end of every hard day, and most of them are hard in some way, there is this moment.
The noise settles.
The day winds down.
And I look around at what surrounds me.
A teenager who is becoming someone I genuinely admire.
A preteen finding her own way.
A baby who smells like everything good in the world.
A husband who chose me and keeps choosing me.
Then my heart does this thing where it feels too full for my chest.
Like it might actually burst from the weight of how much there is to be grateful for.
That moment is what I was longing for all those years ago in the silence.
I just didn’t know exactly what it would look like.
Still Becoming in Motherhood
I want to keep growing.
Not into something perfect.
I gave up on perfect a long time ago.
Instead, I want to become something better.
Wiser than I was last year.
Softer in the places I used to be guarded.
Stronger in the places I used to collapse.
I want to keep becoming.
Not for anyone else.
For me.
And for those three kids who are watching me figure it out in real time.
Because maybe that is one of the most important things I can show them.
Not that life is easy.
Not that their mom had it all together.
But that she kept going anyway.
That she fell down and got back up.
That she chose growth even when it was uncomfortable.
And that she decided, somewhere along the way, that she was worth becoming.
Not Perfect. But Enough.
For a long time, I used to think I needed to be more.
More patient.
More organized.
More healed.
More certain.
More ready.
Then somewhere between the IVF appointments, the birth center, the sleepless nights, and the mornings on the floor, I stopped waiting to be ready.
I just started.
Part of this becoming started during the IVF journey that led me to my youngest baby. That season changed me in ways I’m still understanding.
This blog is part of that.
Writing honestly about the hard things is part of that.
Letting people see the chaotic, beautiful, exhausting, grateful mess of my life is part of that.
For so many years, I felt like I had to have it together before I was allowed to show up.
But I don’t believe that anymore.
You don’t have to be perfect to be worth something.
You don’t have to be fully healed to help someone.
You don’t have to have all the answers to show up honestly.
You just have to keep going.
Keep growing.
Keep becoming.
Not perfect.
But enough.
What I Hope I Remember
I think that is what I want most.
To look back someday and know that I became enough.
For my kids.
For myself.
For the lonely, quiet girl I used to be who just wanted the silence filled with love.
She got what she was longing for.
And she is still becoming.
✨ Thank you for being here and letting me share this part of my story.
A Gentle Reminder
If you are in the middle of figuring yourself out too, alongside motherhood, a hard season, or a version of yourself you’re still growing into, you are not alone in that either.
You might also enjoy 3 Births, 3 Completely Different Experiences, where I share how each birth changed me in a different way.
With love,
Rachel (RaiRai 💛)
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