Humans, by nature, often take certain things for granted until we experience them ourselves. It is only then that we begin to find the words, the emotions, and sometimes even the courage to express what we are truly going through. Yet, perhaps we should not always wait for personal experience before learning.

There is wisdom in listening to the journeys of others, reflecting on their realities, and allowing those lessons to shape our own paths while understanding that every story carries its own context and complexities.

I never fully understood the weight of motherhood. I saw mothers every day. I admired them. I celebrated them. But I did not truly understand them until I became one myself. Sometimes I ask myself why I did not ask more questions earlier, why I did not prepare myself emotionally for what motherhood truly demands. Eii… motherhood is not an easy assignment at all.

Today, as we celebrate Mother’s Day, my thoughts are filled with deep gratitude for my own mother and everything she did for my five siblings and me. Sometimes I sit quietly and wonder: how did she do it? How did she raise six children, manage a home, survive difficult days, and still find the strength to keep going?

I have only two children, and I can confidently say that motherhood alone can feel overwhelming, especially when life still expects you to show up for work, family, responsibilities, and yourself all at once.

And no, this is not to dismiss the role fathers play in raising children. Fathers matter deeply. In many homes, fathers carry enormous responsibilities and make sacrifices that deserve recognition and respect. They, too, have stories of love, commitment, and silent endurance.

But today is Mother’s Day, and I am intentionally choosing to reflect on the feminine side of this journey—the emotional labour, quiet sacrifices, invisible burdens, and unique beauty that many mothers carry daily in raising children.

Back to the issue, the “wahala” my firstborn gives me sometimes makes me feel as though I am raising 20 children and honestly, I am not exaggerating. One minute she is calm, the next minute she is testing every ounce of patience I thought I had.

My second child, on the other hand, is calm, but I can already see she is quietly learning the ways of her elder sister. And I sometimes wonder… is this how the cycle begins?

In moments like these, I think deeply about my own mother. I wonder how she survived those early years—the sleepless nights, the feeding, the illnesses, the constant demands, the emotional exhaustion, and the silent sacrifices mothers rarely speak about.

Motherhood has taught me that it is more than a role. It is a full-time emotional, physical, and mental commitment. It is waking up tired and still showing up. It is sacrificing comfort without announcement. It is carrying worry in silence while still making sure everyone else feels safe and loved.

Most importantly, motherhood is teaching me patience in ways I never imagined possible. It is teaching me that love is not always loud or dramatic. Sometimes love is hidden in repetition—in cooking, cleaning, comforting, correcting, carrying, and constantly giving pieces of yourself to others every single day.

Sometimes, in the middle of it all, I lose myself. I forget who I was before the crying, the feeding schedules, the constant alertness, and the endless responsibilities. But at the same time, I am discovering another version of myself—a stronger, softer, more patient woman. A woman who can be exhausted and still love deeply. A woman who can feel overwhelmed and continue showing up.

And still, I return to the same question: how did our mothers do it?

The more I experience motherhood, the more I realise that our mothers carried a kind of strength many of us are only beginning to understand.

Today, I do not claim to have all the answers. But I do have gratitude. Gratitude for my mother. Gratitude for this journey. Gratitude for the lessons motherhood continues to teach me every single day.

Motherhood is not easy. It is not perfect. It is not predictable. But it is real, powerful, stretching, and transformative. And this… this is only my first chapter.

Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers out there !!!