As I get older, one of the things I notice most about women, and especially mothers, is how much bravery exists inside them.

My mom. My grandmothers. The women who came before me.

The things they carried. The sacrifices they made. The seasons they survived while still showing up for everyone else.

And when I really stop and think about it, I come from women who kept going. Women who figured things out. Women who loved hard. Women who held families together through fear, grief, uncertainty, change, exhaustion, heartbreak, and everyday life.

I think motherhood has made me see them differently now.

Not just as “mom” or “grandma,” but as women. Human beings with their own fears and dreams and impossible moments.

Before I had children, I understood motherhood mostly from the outside. I knew giving birth was painful. I knew newborns were exhausting. I heard people talk about sleepless nights, recovery, sacrifice, hormones, and how much your life changes after having a baby. But I don’t think you can fully understand it until you are inside it yourself.

Until your body goes through it. Until you experience the fear, the exhaustion, the overwhelming love, and the strange reality of functioning on almost no sleep while remaining completely responsible for another human being.

And then one day, somewhere in the middle of motherhood, you look at your own mother differently.

Not as someone who simply knew how to do all of this naturally, but as a woman who was probably scared too. A woman who was once exhausted too. A woman who may have cried in bathrooms, questioned herself, worried constantly, and still somehow kept going because someone needed her.

I think there are so many things we don’t fully understand about our mothers until we become older ourselves. Maybe until we become mothers too.

As children, our mothers can seem almost permanent somehow. Like they were simply made to hold everything together. We don’t always notice the weight they are carrying while they are carrying it. We don’t see the nights they stayed awake worrying, the decisions they second-guessed, the fears they kept to themselves, or the exhaustion they pushed through because someone still needed breakfast, comfort, help with homework, or a ride to school.

And then one day, life humbles you enough to finally understand.

You realize your mother was once a young woman trying to figure life out too. Your grandmother likely had moments where she felt overwhelmed, uncertain, scared, or exhausted and still kept going because she had no other choice.

And somehow, despite all of it, they still created magic for us. They still made holidays feel special. They still packed lunches, folded laundry, remembered birthdays, comforted people, and found ways to make life feel safe and steady even during seasons where they themselves may not have felt steady at all.

And maybe that’s what strikes me most now, not how “ordinary” female bravery is, but how much women quietly endure.

The physical, emotional, and mental strength required of women across a lifetime is enormous. Pregnancy, birth, recovery, loss, fear, heartbreak, exhaustion, sacrifice, caregiving, survival. 

Some women are healing while still having to nurture everyone else around them. And still, they keep going. 🤍

There are moments in motherhood where I don’t always feel particularly brave myself. Moments where life feels heavy. Moments where I question myself more than I’d like to admit. But then I think about the women before me.

And honestly, sometimes it makes me emotional.

Because I think part of becoming a mother is finally understanding what the women before you actually carried.

Not just babies.

Everything.

So this Mother’s Day, I keep thinking about my mom, my grandmothers, and the women in my life who kept showing up even when life asked more of them.

And I know the strength inside me began with them. 🤍

💌

Jenn from The Mom Society™