Reflections on Motherhood and Writing

Today is my son’s 9th birthday, and it feels like a fitting day to reflect.

There’s something incredible about watching a child grow—knowing that someone so full of personality, curiosity, and possibility began as something so small. A seed, in a way, needing time, care, patience, and love.

A few weeks ago, I started a new Monday evening rhythm with my writing buddy. We check in, encourage each other, and make space for our writing.

Writing itself isn’t new to me. I’ve been practising for around 10 years, but this feels different. It’s less about learning how to write and more about learning how to follow through—to take those first sparks of an idea and nurture them into something finished.

At the beginning, I set myself three goals. Just one week in, I’m already noticing a few things about myself.

1. Things take longer than I think 😳

This is a lesson I seem to learn over and over again. Ideas can arrive in a moment, but bringing them into the world takes time. Life is full—children, family, responsibilities, and all the everyday moments that make up our days. Creating something meaningful requires patience and a willingness to trust the process.

2. I love the ideas and the new beginnings… but finishing is where the growth happens 🙌🏻

I’ve realised how much I love the beginning of things. The excitement of a new idea. The possibility. The feeling that anything could happen.

But finishing asks something different of me.

It asks me to stay through the messy middle. To keep going after the excitement fades. To resist chasing the next new idea and instead keep nurturing the one I’ve already started.

I’m beginning to see my ideas as seedlings. Some need more time than others. Some will grow into finished projects, and as one reaches completion, another naturally begins to emerge.

But I have to stay with the uncomfortable parts, because that’s where I grow. That’s where I learn to trust myself—not just to have ideas, but to bring them to life.

Maybe that’s the real practice I’m building. Not just a writing practice, but a completion practice. A practice of showing up, staying with something, and allowing it to become what it was always meant to be.

Today, as I celebrate my son and the incredible person he is becoming, I’m reminded that the things we bring to life rarely happen overnight.

They grow slowly.

They need care.

And they are worth staying for. 🌱