My Baby Turned Two, and Somehow, So Did I. How two years of motherhood have rebuilt me.
I was at the playground this week when another mom asked, “How old is she?”
I opened my mouth to respond, and then I paused.
"Oh my goodness," I finally said, "she’s two."
Two.
Two years of firsts. Two years of slowing down and speeding up all at once. Two years of sleepless nights and heart-melting mornings. Two years of watching this little human become—and somehow, in the process, I became too.
MOTHER HOOD WASN’T MY BIG DREAM
I never envisioned myself as a mother who would thrive in this role. If I’m honest, I didn’t have the deepest yearning to be a mom. Coming from a family of passionate entrepreneurs, my heart was always set on building a business, on creating something of my own. Through my twenties, I hustled relentlessly—chasing goals, growing a brand and trying to “make it happen”. But while my business grew, my nervous system suffered. I didn’t sleep enough, I didn’t drink enough water and over-functioning became my default coping mechanism for anxiety. And then, everything changed.
The Shift I Didn’t See Coming
When we moved to the farm and decided to start a family, I wanted to embrace a new chapter and build a life with more intention. Looking back, I wasn’t at all prepared for just how much that shift would crack me open.
Pregnancy changed me in ways I never expected. The moment I knew there was life growing inside me, I instinctively started caring for myself in a way I never had before. My body was no longer just mine—it was ours. I rested, I nourished, I slowed down. For the first time in years, I put my well-being first—
not just for me, but for her.
And then, she arrived five weeks early at 34 weeks, rewriting every plan I had meticulously laid out.
I thought I would have more time. More time to prepare, more time to wrap up work, more time to finish things neatly with a bow. Instead, I was thrown into motherhood earlier than expected, cracked open in ways I never saw coming. And yet, somehow, it was exactly the intervention I needed.
What Motherhood Has Taught Me in Two Years
1. Night wakings became moments of prayer.
In those first months of teething, reflux, and sleep regressions, I learned that prayer is the most productive way to get through the hardest nights.
Instead of resenting the 12PM, 2 AM, and 4 AM wake-ups, I began to whisper gratitude in the dark. For the warmth of her body curled against mine. For the sacredness of holding her in those fleeting moments. For the reality that those days—the ones that felt so long and exhausting—were the ones I would miss most when they were gone. It didn’t change the exhaustion, but it changed me.
2. The awe of simplicity.
I used to seek inspiration in big ideas, in grand moments. Now, I find it in the way she picks apart a flower petal by petal, in how she watches the wind move through the trees, in her fascination with the simplest things—stirring a spoon in a pot, splashing water, chasing bubbles.
Her wonder has become my own. And for that, I am endlessly grateful.
3. Growth happens whether we’re ready or not.
A year ago, she was a crawling, drooling baby. Now, she’s running, climbing, and shouting commands. Every day I get to witness her determination to learn, her curiosity about everything and her complete lack of fear in trying new things.
She doesn’t overthink. She doesn’t hesitate. She doesn’t fear failure.
She just does.
And I think—how much more could we create, experience, and achieve if we embraced life with the same openness? If we brushed off mistakes with a giggle? If we simply tried again, unbothered by the first fall?
4. Moving our bodies is a privilege, not a punishment.
I used to think of exercise as something I had to do. Now, I see it differently.
Motherhood is movement. It’s actually accidental exercise. It’s carrying a toddler who somehow gets heavier by the day, running after them, stretching to reach them, bending, twisting, lifting—all in the name of love.
I no longer move to “burn calories” or to “achieve a goal.” I move because I want to be strong, capable, and energetic for her. I want to keep up with her, explore with her, run alongside her for years to come.
5. Routine is beautiful, but so is pivoting with grace.
I used to hold so tightly to how things should go. But motherhood? It reminds you daily that control is an illusion. Nap schedules shift. Meals get refused. Plans get interrupted. And I’ve learned to breathe through it all. To pivot with grace, to adjust, to embrace the imperfect. Some of the most magical moments happen in the unexpected.
Two Years of Her, Two Years of Me
I often think about my old definition of success—the version of me who measured success in visibility, growth, external validation. Now, success looks completely different.
Success is feeling fulfilled in my everyday life, not just my online presence.
Success is knowing that I am living in alignment with what truly matters.
Success is walking barefoot in the garden with my daughter, unseen by anyone, knowing that the moment with her is enough.
Before having Aurora, I feared slowing down. I feared losing momentum. I feared falling behind.
But motherhood didn’t slow me down—it rebuilt my foundation. It made me stronger. More present. More intentional. It teaches me every day that not everything goes to plan, and that’s exactly how it should be—because that is where life happens.
So here’s to two years of her. Two years of us.
And two years of becoming more of myself than I ever thought possible.
What’s one lesson your motherhood journey has taught you? Share in the comments below, or reach out— let’s continue to grow and create, together.