Better Than Before

I used to think I had everything figured out—my daily routines, my friendships, my little joys. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was predictable. Safe. Then everything shifted the day I held my newborn daughter in my arms.

The world suddenly grew bigger and smaller at the same time. Bigger because of all the unknowns, smaller because everything now revolved around one tiny heartbeat.

The first days were rough. I cried more than she did. I missed who I used to be—independent, confident, always on top of things. Now I felt like a stranger to myself, buried in diapers, late-night feedings, and doubt.

But slowly, something began to change. I learned to listen, not just to her, but to myself. I discovered strength in my softness, wisdom in my stillness. I stopped chasing the person I was and started loving the person I was becoming.

Each day, I grew with her. Her first smile, her sleepy sighs, her eyes searching for mine—all those moments stitched a new version of me. A version that was less polished, but more present.

Today, I don’t just live—I feel. I don’t just wake up—I rise. I don’t just survive—I mother.

And somehow, in the quiet chaos of motherhood, I’ve become someone better than before.

Thanks for your time and for reading to the end