Destined to be a Girl Mom.
I didn’t grow up in a house full of love. Affection wasn’t freely given, and warmth wasn’t something I could always count on. In my home, we weren’t kind to one another—not in the way that families should be. Love felt conditional, measured by obedience rather than genuine care or connection. It was a do as I say, not as I do environment, where the rules didn’t always apply equally, and expectations shifted without warning. As a child, I was constantly given mixed signals about what was appropriate, what was acceptable, and what it meant to be good.
My parents did not model a healthy relationship. I don’t recall seeing love expressed in ways that made me believe in its security. Instead, I learned to navigate tension, to walk on eggshells, to observe rather than feel. There was no roadmap for how to communicate feelings in a way that felt safe. No examples of partnership built on respect and kindness. I remember being a young adult and thinking that I never wanted to have children, because there’s no way that I could risk continuing this cycle.
Now, here I am—a mother, raising daughters of my own. But I am parenting without parents. There’s no mom or dad to call for advice, no childhood memories to draw from that remind me how to handle certain situations. I don’t have the luxury of repeating what worked for me, only the burden of making sure I don’t repeat what didn’t. Avoiding every traumatic experience both big and small. Every decision feels heavier because I don’t have a blueprint. I am constantly second-guessing, wondering if I’m doing it right, if I’m giving my girls what they need. Many of my hardest parenting moments can be very triggering for me for that reason.
On top of that, I am raising GIRLS in 2025. A time where they will grow up with more possibilities than ever yet still face so many barriers that try to keep them in their place. I have to teach them about strength and resilience, about how to take up space in rooms that weren’t designed for them, about how to be bold in a society that still expects women to shrink. I have to prepare them for the realities of being a woman—the unfairness, the expectations, the fight they will inevitably have to put up in order to be seen and heard. But I also get to teach them that being a woman is powerful, that they are capable, that their worth isn’t tied to how agreeable or accommodating they can be. No one ever taught me that, no one ever prepared me for what life as a woman was like and helped me gain the skills I would need to succeed.
When I became a mother—I knew my purpose was bigger than just raising children. I grew up in the middle of 2 sisters, I had two daughters, so it became all about breaking cycles. It became my duty, my responsibility, to raise daughters who never question whether they are loved. What an honor, right?
At first, I wasn’t sure I was equipped for this role. The weight of raising strong, confident girls felt heavy on my shoulders. How could I give them something I didn’t fully have myself? How could I teach them to feel secure in love when I had spent years searching for it? The fear of failing them, of not being enough, lingered in my mind. I told myself that I wasn’t qualified to do this so many times.
But for me, motherhood had a way of pushing me. It pushed me to go therapy and work on the parts of me that needed healing. And every day, I fight to be the mother my daughters deserve. I don’t always get it right. I still struggle, still question myself, still get it wrong. But one thing I know for certain: I will never stop showing up for them. I will never stop loving them loudly, reminding them of their worth, and creating a home where they feel safe, seen, and cherished. I will continue to apologize to them when I am wrong, allow them to be loud and take up space, encourage them to stand up for what they believe in, and support them in all that they do.
Because they deserve that. And because I was meant to do this.
