09/29/2025
Motherhood in Harmony
When I imagined motherhood, I thought it would be mostly about sacrifice.
I pictured myself as a caregiver on the sidelines—meeting needs while slowly letting go as my child grew more independent.
That isn’t how it turned out at all.
From the very beginning, I wanted to live inside their world, not just orbit around it.
We cooked side by side—little legs standing on the learning tower, tiny hands stirring pancake batter or seasoning a salad while I chopped vegetables.
We spent endless hours outside, in every season: splashing through puddles in Scanlon Park, wading into Muskoka Bay, swimming at Lake Couchiching, digging in sand until the sun slipped low.
We went to every playground in town, story hour at the library, music classes, playgroups—even the “low school” days that felt like their own little adventures.
When they were old enough for swim lessons, I swam laps too—we were always sharing the water somehow.
The rhythm of our days was about being together:
reading stacks of library books on the couch, snuggling under blankets on winter afternoons, practicing high kicks for the next taekwondo belt, sword fights and cartwheels, tea parties, drying our hair after lake swims in the summer sun.
It never felt like caregiving or sacrifice.
It felt like living life as a small tribe—learning, playing, exploring, resting—together.
I once believed that every day of motherhood would be about letting go, that children naturally drift away.
What I’ve learned is different: each day adds another layer to your connection.
As they grow more independent, the form of the relationship shifts—
but the closeness, the trust, the way you know each other’s hearts, only deepens.
The bond isn’t breaking; it’s maturing.
Now that they’re older, we still share meals, laugh in the kitchen, dive into the lake together, wander trails, and discover new places.
The details have changed, but the feeling hasn’t.
If I had to name it, I’d call it harmony—the quiet knowing that everyone’s needs matter, that love can be reciprocal and whole, that family can be a partnership in growing up together.
Motherhood doesn’t have to be defined by sacrifice.
It can be defined by connection—by the everyday moments that make a shared life feel rich and whole.
This way of living—where presence matters more than perfection—is at the heart of the work I share today.
Whether it’s supporting families, guiding health and healing, or teaching others to build a life they love, it all begins with this simple truth:
when we feel safe, seen, and connected, we thrive—together.
