The Two Truths of Motherhood

One of my friends recently had a baby, and it made me reflect on my daughter’s birth and the transition from one to two kids. It was hard, and we lived in survival mode. But thinking about those early days also made me reflect on where we are now.

My oldest son just started preschool, which means I have a couple of hours with only my younger daughter a few days a week. We’re getting into more of a rhythm, tantrums have settled (mostly), and it feels like we’re entering a sweet spot.

Spending that time with just my daughter made me realize something: this is my last year with my son home most of the day before he starts TK. For so long, I thought that season of “must entertain all day” would never end. But suddenly, it’s almost over.

That realization brought so many emotions. Relief and freedom, because I could finally see space for myself again, maybe even time to work. Hope, because I’d get more one-on-one time with my daughter. But also sadness.

The garbage truck came one morning after drop-off, and my daughter lit up. She wanted to watch it, the way she always does with her brother. But he wasn’t there, and she kept looking for him. I felt the relief of preschool, but she cried when her play buddy wasn’t with her. Our train-building afternoons won’t look the same anymore. Our flexible days will be shaped by school hours.

I used to roll my eyes when people told me these so-called “wonder years” were precious and short. When I was in the thick of it, they felt endless. Like eternity.

But lately, I’ve been listening to Dr. Becky’s book Good Inside, and in the first chapter she talks about “multiple truths.” That phrase struck me. It explained exactly what I’ve been feeling.

Both things were true when I was at home with two little kids: it was hard, and those long days felt like forever. And it’s also true that now, looking back, that season was short-lived.

I remember going to a baby shower after having my youngest and coming home angry. People were telling the soon-to-be mom how precious those night wakings were. But I was living them and feeling exhausted, sleep-deprived, and desperate to just have time for me. They didn’t feel precious at all. 

I came home, cried to my husband, and vented about how unfair it felt. And yet, another truth was there too. Those night wakings were also bonding moments. They were where attachment and comfort were built. Both exhaustion and beauty lived in those nights.

And that’s the lesson I keep circling back to now: two truths can coexist. Motherhood is rarely just one thing. It’s sweet and heartbreaking. Draining and life-giving. Precious and hard.

When I stop trying to put myself in the box of just one truth, I feel more grounded. Because the paradox is the point. Motherhood is the tension of "both/and" while also learning to hold that makes the journey feel more whole.