Feeding my son outdoors, finding calm in the everyday moments that make motherhood feel both grounding and unforgettable.
Image: Bernelee Vollmer
I used to treat my dolls like actual children. They wore nappies, got “fed” bottles and went everywhere with me. Church? They were there. Visiting family? Obviously, they were coming too. Tiny me was fully committed to motherhood long before adulthood even entered the chat.
So when I became a mother in May 2025 to a beautiful little boy with my husband, it felt like life had finally introduced me to a version of myself I had always known existed.
But motherhood? Yoh. Nobody can fully prepare you for it.
Social media has sold people a polished little fantasy with aesthetic baby rooms, matching outfits and mothers who somehow look fresh after surviving on broken sleep, snatched and all.
Meanwhile, real mothers are sitting with leaking breasts, healing bodies, anxiety and exhaustion while still trying to be present for their babies. Sometimes I genuinely wondered whether some people are selling dreams online while quietly falling apart behind closed doors.
Before the nappies, bottles and sleepless nights became real life, there was little me carrying dolls around like they were my actual children.
Image: Bernelee Vollmer
My son arrived prematurely, and our first days were spent between a private hospital and a government hospital, where he had to stay under phototherapy lights because of jaundice.
That experience changed me very quickly. I realised how many new mothers are expected to simply know everything immediately.
There is not always softness or understanding. Sometimes you are spoken to as if becoming pregnant means you automatically downloaded a parenting manual into your brain.
In some moments, especially in the government hospital setting, the attitude felt even harsher, with comments like “Jy wil mos gelê het,” implying that because you chose to have a baby, you must just accept everything that follows without fear, questions or emotion.
Girl, what do you mean? Meanwhile, I was terrified.
Motherhood is becoming a version of yourself you are still learning to recognise.
Image: Magnific
I was trying to breastfeed while dealing with painful lumps in my breasts because my milk had come in during the cold.
Nobody tells you about things like that. Nobody tells you how emotional you become when your baby is lying under hospital lights, and all you want to do is hold him close and take him home.
And when we finally did bring him home, the relief was unreal.
Now my son is about to turn one at the end of May, and my brain still struggles to process how quickly this year has moved. During the newborn stage, my husband and I thought sleep deprivation would last forever.
Days blended into nights. Bottles, nappies and crying became the soundtrack of our lives. Yet somehow, between the exhaustion, something beautiful was happening too.
Motherhood has taught me emotional growth in ways I still cannot fully explain. Before becoming a mother, I thought growth came from heartbreak, career struggles or life disappointments (and sis had her fair share).
Then I had a child, and suddenly I understood what it means to love somebody beyond logic. The kind of love where your entire world shifts without asking for permission.
It taught me survival, too. There are days when you function on barely any sleep yet somehow still find the energy to sing nursery rhymes, clean bottles and show up with love. Your body changes dramatically. Your hormones shift. Your confidence changes.
Somewhere between baby spit-up, dry shampoo and reheating the same cup of coffee four times, I have accepted that “put together” is now a myth I used to believe in.
Sometimes you look in the mirror and barely recognise yourself. Even with the most supportive partner beside you, and I am grateful every day that I have that because it truly makes the journey lighter, your body is still the one that carried, stretched, healed and sacrificed in ways nobody else fully understands.
And yes, there are days when I look in the mirror and think, “Who is this woman and what happened to my waistline,” only to remember I grew a whole human, so the waistline is currently on sabbatical.
A supportive partner helps create stability, presence and reassurance, making the journey of parenthood more grounded as we raise our son together.
Image: Bernelee Vollmer
There is also a loneliness that sits quietly in motherhood, especially in the beginning. It is not about lack of love or support; it is just the reality of how deeply personal this experience is.
He can say I am beautiful or "Babe, you're doing a good job", and in my head, I am immediately thinking, “Argh, he is just saying that”, because there are days when I do not recognise myself.
A good partner can support you emotionally, mentally and physically, but motherhood still asks something deeply personal from a woman. It changes you from the inside out.
Motherhood also taught me gratitude. Real gratitude. Not the kind that people post online, attached to sunset pictures. I mean gratitude for ordinary moments.
These days, celebration looks different to me. Joy is hearing my son laugh uncontrollably from another room. It is tiny hands reaching for me.
Tiny feet running towards me like I am the safest place in the world. I am watching his personality slowly unfold in front of my eyes. It's seeing my husband be a great dad to our son and watching him grow.
Those moments matter more than any grand celebration ever could.
Joy is found in the simplest moments shared with my son.
Image: Bernelee Vollmer
It also taught me that it is okay to change, even when you do not fully recognise the new version of yourself yet. Something is unsettling at first about that shift, but also something freeing in accepting it.
I have also lost people during this season of my life. People I genuinely thought would be here to meet my son and witness this version of me as a mother.
That part hurt more than I expected. There is something painful about realising certain people will never know the woman you became after motherhood softened you, strengthened you and changed your heart completely.
But I have also learned that not everybody is meant to stay forever. Some people are part of only one chapter of your story, and that is okay. You learn to appreciate the memories, the love that existed and the role they played during that season of your life.
And maybe that is another thing motherhood teaches you.
To hold on tighter to what matters and let go of what no longer does.