It’s so easy to be hard on ourselves in the present tense. Sometimes we lose sight of exactly how far we’ve come.

I’ve been a mother for almost thirteen years, which I realize is something I often take for granted. Growing up, I watched my mom struggle as a teen mom, and heard stories of my grandmother & great-grandmother doing the very same. It was through bearing witness to their experiences and being part of their struggles that I believed motherhood to be a burdensome, obligatory condition, and not one that should be coveted or sought after. I didn’t factor having children into the calculus of my early life in hopes of doing something “more.” When I became pregnant at 22, I thought, “Oh, here we go. Now it begins.”

At the time, I was a barely a spec of functioning society; a tiny, aimless poppy seed flitting from place to place with no real purpose. I had nothing, save for my dreams of transferring to CUNY for my undergrad and becoming a pro dancer. Just when I thought I was getting traction on my goals is when the strip turned pink. So, I put everything to the side in order to fulfill my responsibility to my newborn daughter. And I’m here to tell you: it wasn’t easy, seamless, or life-affirming (at least, not in the way most would expect.)

I took to motherhood like a second skin, but it was nothing like what you read about on all these novel, glorified accounts of becoming a mother. It was a transition of function and outright necessity. I struggled the most during my daughter’s formative years: I had no meaningful skills, education or substantial life plan to speak of. At best, I was a waitress who never turned down an extra shift. If you asked me back then, I would have told you “I want to buy groceries, pay my rent, and be left alone.” The dreams I had sought after only a few years earlier were a figment of my imagination, if not completely trivial and nonsensical.

In due time, I made connections with the people who taught me how to make something of myself. Their encouragement and tough love was just what I needed to believe that something more was possible for my daughter and I. They were kind to teach me everything I know now about running a business, work withing with all kinds of people, and thinking like a scientist to solve complex issues. So, I applied myself and worked my way up to a full-time career in the restoration industry by the time my daughter was 4. How I managed to do this, I still don’t know.

Fast forward the conversation, I earned additional opportunities that brought me where I am now: a homeowner with an established career who earns a comfortable living, a college graduate, and a functioning member of society. Motherhood has felt like an accompaniment to all the other things I had to do to get to where I am now—certainly not an “honor” or a “privilege” as others say it is (though, they are absolutely correct in saying this.)

I think the reason why I struggle with viewing my role as a mom through a much softer lens is because of how dang hard this whole journey has been so far. Motherhood is supposed to be this soft, feminine experience. For me, it’s always been the opposite. Make no mistake: I am absolutely obsessed with my daughter. My bubba, my sweet pea, my little Dutch girl. She is sensitive, insightful, an animal lover, and equipped with the same dark humor her father and I possess (oops… haha.) It’s through her that I’ve had the opportunity to re-write my family’s history, which is something I am immeasurably grateful for.

The point I am making is that my experience being a mother has not felt like what it does for most others. No matter how far I’ve come, I still feel like I will never be enough—not for her, for myself, or for the world.

It’s this bubbling insecurity that robs me of the opportunity to slow down and steep myself in the gratitude of what I’ve managed to achieve so far.

If you are someone who feels the same, I want you to know that I see you. I hope that you and I both can find it in ourselves to celebrate our victories and allow the joy of parenthood to permeate the cracks in our armor.

Maybe over time, that joy will seep through and take up the space where all the grit and all the grind was forced to occupy.

Parenthood, and more specifically being a mother, is no small gift. It is a portal to creating new pathways to life, shaping the next generation, and setting the tone for our future world. For as many times as I have to remind myself of this, I hope you can take it as a little reminder to cherish the experience, too.