Reflections

There is something no one tells you honestly about motherhood. Not the soft part. Not the photos. Not the romance of new life. It is this: the moment you become a mother, it becomes visible how much you were actually carrying alone. When I held my daughter in my arms, alongside love I felt a sharp clarity. I had not only given birth to a child. I had given birth to a woman. A future. A mirror. And suddenly the question became unavoidable: what kind of ground is she growing in