I was five years old when my world shattered. My mother was murdered before I had the chance to truly know her. For years after that, I was left with a question that haunted me more than the loss itself: Did she love me?

It is hard to explain what it does to a little girl to grow up with that question hanging in the air, unanswered. I looked for the answer in faces, in moments, in memories that faded with time. I longed for something soft, something safe, something steady. I longed to be loved, fully, loudly, unmistakably.

I spent years quietly carrying wounds I did not know how to name. And then motherhood came stretching me, undoing me, blessing me, and breaking me all at the same time.

Yet I made a vow in my heart: My children will never question my love, and I meant it. I poured my whole heart into them. I made sure they heard it, felt it, saw it. I wrapped them in love so tightly I thought it would be enough to protect them from every pain I had ever known.

But somewhere along the way... I missed something.

I remember the moments I did not like what I saw in the mirror. The impatience. The yelling. The shutting down. Over-giving until there was nothing left of me but resentment and exhaustion.

I thought love would cover everything, but love without guidance can feel like chaos. Love without limits can become enabling. The very thing I was trying to protect them from, pain, confusion, and insecurity found its way in anyway. That realization broke me, but it also grew me.

Tamika VanEckelen

You are not alone on this journey of:

Becoming the mom, you yearned for. Becoming the mom your children deserve. Becoming the mom, your younger self would be proud of.

We are all still becoming. And that is okay.

I was five years old when my world shattered. My mother was murdered before I had the chance to truly know her. For years after that, I was left with a question that haunted me more than the loss itself: Did she love me?

I had to forgive myself. I had to apologize to my children. I had to relearn what love looks like when it is full, healthy, and holy. Love that is more than just a feeling but a foundation. Slowly, with God’ s help, I have been rebuilding.

No, I did not get it all right. Motherhood is not about perfection, it is about being brave enough to heal while you parent, to learn while you lead, to love deeply, but to love wisely too. It is about persistence, it is about choosing repeatedly to show up better than the day before.

And so, I say to every mother, if nobody else has told you lately I see you. I know the weight you carry. I know the silent prayers you whisper over sleeping children. I know the tears you wipe away in the shower, so nobody sees. I know because I have been there too.

God sees you. God knows the places you have hurt. He knows the places you have healed. And He is faithful to finish what He started in you.

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