10 Things My Difficult Journey to Motherhood Taught Me

Motherhood is magical, exhilarating, and the greatest thing I’ve ever done. It is simultaneously life changing and yet it feels so natural, as if this is the way it has always been and was always meant to be. But you know what else it is? A total rollercoaster that no one really warns you about. My journey to motherhood wasn’t just bumpy—it was a full-blown off-road adventure, complete with unexpected detours, medical plot twists, and more emotional turbulence than a long-haul flight with a toddler. But through it all, I learned some big, profound, and life changing lessons. Here are ten of them.

1. Control is an Illusion

I used to be one of those people who made color-coded spreadsheets for life. I knew how many children I wanted before I was thirty. I had a plan for every year. But then pregnancy happened, and my illusion of control was shattered. Premature birth. Miscarriages. A difficult pregnancy involving surgery and bed rest. And I learnt that the sooner you accept that control is a comforting lie, the sooner you can focus on and enjoy what is in front of you, the moments that you have, and not the moments that you wish you had. For me, this meant trying (and often failing) to celebrate every day and every week of a difficult pregnancy, including cracking a champagne when I hit the all important 28 week milestone! I learnt that I could only focus on what I could do each day to have a safe and healthy pregnancy, and I had to be okay with controlling only my actions, and not the outcome.

2. Your Marriage Will Be Tested – And Strengthened

Few things test a marriage like negative pregnancy tests, hospital waiting rooms, and a baby in the Neonatal Intensive Care unit. But nothing bonds you like facing the impossible together. If my husband and I can survive this chapter of life, we can survive anything (including his inability to take out the garbage regularly). I can’t imagine a more difficult first three years of marriage, including the Honeymoon period of our marriage ending with a miscarriage only two months after our wedding. However, our shared grief and the depth of emotion that comes from becoming parents (and trying to become parents) has helped us to forge an even deeper relationship. We know that in the darkest hours, when we are at our lowest points, sick with grief and fear, we have each other. It really is “in sickness and in health”.

3. Compassion is Built in the Fire

Going through loss and uncertainty gave me a whole new lens on suffering. When you’ve walked through fire, you recognize the burns on others. I used to rush past people’s pain, now I sit with them in it, because sometimes, just knowing you’re not alone is everything. I have been able to better understand the pain that others go through. For the first time in my life, being a bereaved mother gave me the opportunity to have real empathy and compassion for my own mother, who had lost a child too. As a child I remember going to the cemetery and being bored while my mum cried, with zero understanding for what that visit really meant. I have learnt that everyone is carrying their own burdens and problems, and that it is so important to approach others with kindness and understanding; you never know what they are going through and how hard their day was. Some days, my grief was so heavy, and a stranger’s compassion and humanity was all that got me through the day. 

4. Perspective is Everything

A blowout diaper at a restaurant? Not ideal. But when you’ve spent weeks praying your baby will live, you don’t sweat the small stuff. (Well, you sweat a little, but mostly because you're carrying a baby, a car seat, and a giant nappy bag everywhere.) There is literally no amount of sleep deprivation that could ruin the complete and utter happiness that I have from having a living child, here with me. Whilst of course some days and nights can be much harder than others, my difficult journey to having a living baby, with three pregnancies before my rainbow baby, makes me so grateful for everything. This includes the messy, overwhelmed, tired moments which are inevitable with a small baby.

5. Faith Can Be Shaken – But It Can Also Grow

There were moments in the hospital, in the emergency room, in the NICU, where I felt like my prayers were falling on deaf ears. Then, the dark nights and the lonely days without a rainbow baby, were crippling. Why did this happen to me? How could God have let me feel this much pain? But faith isn’t about never doubting; it’s about holding on when you do. And sometimes, faith looks like crying yourself to sleep, then getting up and doing it all again the next day. Over time and much reflection, my faith has grown. My faith in God, my faith in humanity, and my belief that we can never know why things happen, but we are never left alone. I think that this chapter of my life, the chapter of desperately wanting a living baby and not having one, has caused me to grow as a person and to strengthen my faith. A faith untested is less than one that is.

6. Mums Are Basically Superheroes

I’ve seen a mother hold a baby with one hand while using the other to fish a dummy off the floor, pay for coffee, and respond to an urgent text. We are the multi-tasking ninjas of the universe, and we deserve medals (or at the very least, uninterrupted showers). Mums-to-be or mums-in-waiting are superheroes, too. They make sacrifices, take medication, stop drinking and hold onto the much anticipated moment of finally being able to hold a baby in their arms. My own journey was almost three years before we had a living baby here with us to stay. But so many mums-in-waiting can face longer battles than this, perhaps never getting the joy of birthing a much longed for child. These mothers too, mothers in their generosity of spirit and desire for motherhood, ought to be recognised as the superheroes they are.

7. Grief and Gratitude Can Coexist

You can be heartbroken and grateful at the same time. You can grieve a loss while holding onto hope. And sometimes, the hardest seasons bring the deepest joy. (Other times, they just bring more coffee.) Having our rainbow baby did not take away any of the pain of our three angel babies, but there was adequate space for both grief and gratitude. Leading up to our daughter’s birth, I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to find joy for her amidst all the renewed grief of what had already come to pass, but I was so very wrong about this. There is space in my heart for all of my children.

8. People Will Surprise You

Some will disappoint you, like the colleague who tells you that your miscarriage was just a “little blip” and to move on. But others? They will show up with friendship, hugs, and the exact words you need to hear. Focus on those people. They may or may not be mothers. They may or may not have had a difficult road to get there. But they are genuine and kind. It may surprise you who they are: often it is entirely unexpected and lovely when there are moments of unexpected connection and shared humanity. 

9. Laughter is a Lifeline

When everything feels overwhelming, sometimes the only option is to laugh. Like the time I was so tired I put her to sleep, forget I had just fed her, and then tried to wake her for a feed. Or when we were being attacked by mosquitoes in a hotel room, afraid our two week old baby would get bitten and react badly. I was holding her, cocooned under a muslin wrap and looking ridiculous, as I tried to shield her from those pesky insects. A sense of humour is essential for survival.

10. Love is the Strongest Force in the Universe

No matter how much fear, pain, or exhaustion you face, love will always be bigger. The kind of love that stays up all night to help with a crying baby, the kind that fights for every breath, the kind that changes you forever.

So to all the mums out there including mums-in-waiting and mums-to-be – whether your journey has been smooth, bumpy, or completely upside down – just know you’re not alone. We’re all in this beautiful, messy, miraculous thing which is motherhood together.