Finding Grace in Motherhood: A Journey Through Tears and Triumphs

"I want you to be happy!" she declared. I continued crying silent tears, but she could see them streaming down my cheeks. "Mommy, I want to make you happy," she said in the smallest, most loving voice as she snuggled in next to me. In that moment, I could feel my heart breaking.

The thoughts raced through my mind. She was three, only three years old. Yet, so empathetic and innocent. I couldn't even think of what to say to her. Why did she think it was her responsibility to make me happy?

The Weight of a Child's Love

I nuzzled my head next to hers and said, "Sweetie, it's not your job to make me happy. I'm ok."

She didn't buy it. "Mommy, I don't want you to be sad." And she was right – I was sad. Not sad all the time, but in that moment, I was overwhelmed and exhausted. I was fighting a head cold she had likely given me, the baby was sick too, and with the temperature at a bitter 14 degrees, we were trapped inside. I had been alone with them all day, as I am most days. But how did she make the jump from seeing my sadness to believing it was her job to make me happy? I felt terrible. Did I give off a constant vibe of sadness to her?

The Spiral of Mom Guilt

My mind started its familiar descent into overthinking. Had I somehow conveyed to her that she needed to make me happy? I immediately started replaying conversations with her in my head, searching for where I went wrong. But as I fought to stop the thoughts swirling in my head, I had a revelation – she's me. She's wired just like me. Just as my brain immediately tried to find an answer, a reason she said what she said so I could "fix it," she was doing the same thing, trying to say something to "fix me." Apple doesn't fall far from the tree, right?

I managed to quiet the overthinking and simply said, "Being a Mommy is hard. I'm just having a sad moment. It's ok to be sad sometimes. You don't have to make me happy. Just being your mom makes me happy."

Her response melted me: "Ok Momma. Because you're my best Mommy." She squeezed me in a hug and bounced away to play with her toys, the moment already forgotten in her three-year-old world.

When Small Moments Become Big Feelings

You might wonder what triggered this emotional scene. It was something so simple – she accidentally stepped on my hair while we were playing, and it hurt like hell. That small sharp pain brought a tear to my eye, and suddenly, the floodgates opened. Not because the pain warranted such a reaction, but because I was already running on empty – sick, exhausted, and overwhelmed. That single tear of physical pain unleashed a torrent of emotional overwhelm.

The Reality of Motherhood's Rollercoaster

Being a mom is simultaneously the best and hardest job in the world. That's not just a cliché – it's a daily truth we live with. I wouldn't change a thing about this journey, but acknowledging its difficulty doesn't make me less grateful. I'm learning – sometimes struggling – to give myself grace. I'm figuring out how to navigate the spectacular highs alongside the challenging lows.

There are days when I feel like I'm absolutely crushing it as a mom, and others when I feel like I'm failing spectacularly. Today, watching my daughter try to shoulder the responsibility for my happiness, I felt like a failure. But maybe the real failure is in my constant need to analyze every situation, to find meaning in every interaction.

The Birthday Party Paradox

Take my daughter's first birthday, for example. I spent weeks meticulously planning every detail, crafting decorations by hand, preparing homemade food, and coordinating every element of the celebration. On the surface, it was perfect (or as perfect as a recovering perfectionist like myself would allow – but that's a story for another day). Everyone praised the decorations and food, and I basked in the feeling of being a "wonderful mom."

But beneath that picture-perfect exterior lay weeks of sleep deprivation, snapping at my husband from stress, and creating an environment that was actually overwhelming for my one-year-old. I had defined my success as a mother by the compliments and external validation I received, rather than by what truly mattered.

Fast forward to her second birthday – I went all out again, chasing that feeling of validation from the previous year. The party was just as elaborate, but this time, the compliments didn't flow as freely. Somehow, in my mind, this translated to failure – as if the quality of my mothering could be measured in party decorations and praise from others.

Finding Grace in the Journey

The truth is, motherhood isn't defined by single moments, whether triumphant or challenging. It's not measured in birthday party compliments or occasional tears. When my daughter tried to comfort me during my moment of weakness, it wasn't a sign of failure – it was evidence of the empathy and love we've cultivated in our relationship.

She's sensitive and loving because she's secure in our connection. She wanted to make me happy not out of obligation, but because she loves me fiercely and unconditionally. I'm her mom, her safe harbor, and seeing me upset naturally triggered her desire to help. Instead of overanalyzing her response, I can choose to see it as a beautiful reflection of our bond.

Embracing the Whole Journey

The real lesson here isn't about being a perfect mom or never showing vulnerability to our children. It's about accepting that motherhood is a rollercoaster – complete with exhilarating highs, challenging lows, and plenty of unexpected turns. No single part of the ride defines the entire experience.

What matters most is that we're present for all of it – the tears and the triumphs, the perfect parties and the messy moments. When we give ourselves permission to experience these emotions without judgment, we teach our children that it's okay to be human, to feel deeply, and to love imperfectly.

As I continue on this motherhood journey, I'm learning to extend myself the same grace I hope my children will one day give themselves. After all, isn't that what we're really teaching them? Not that life should be perfect, but that it should be lived authentically, with room for both joy and sadness, success and struggle.

And maybe, just maybe, that's the greatest gift we can give both ourselves and our children – the permission to be perfectly imperfect, to feel deeply, and to love fiercely through it all.