I had my precious Tori 32 days after I turned 20. My sweet Erin came to me 1,311 days later, four months before I turned 24. I thought I was so grown up. I was intentional in bringing these children into the world, but in no way was I prepared to be a mother, not at 20 and still not at 23, and gosh…. even now I’m constantly asking myself, “Am I doing this right?”

I think some women are born to be mothers, designed to nurture, made to turn floppy crying babies into healthy thriving children, to channel Michaelangelo and gently, thoughtfully sculpt offspring into well-functioning, happy adults. I struggled with being a young momma. I struggled to be unselfish, to put their needs ahead of my own, to be patient and proactive and present. I was not equipped to take care of myself, and to understand that doing so would set a positive example for my little ladies. I felt overwhelmed, confused, unsettled. I was overprotective in some ways and gave them way too much responsibility in others, sometimes told them too much too soon, often didn’t say things I should have said. I was terrible with hair and makeup and certainly did not come armed with good advice.

No matter the challenge or discord, though, the through line was a fierce love and an unbreakable connection. Tori was my wild little curly blonde sidekick for nearly four years before Erin was born, and that sunshiney baby with indigo blue eyes dropped into our lives and made my world complete. From that moment, we were a trio. It was us, no matter what.

My generation likes to say that we did our best, but I do wish I could go back and be a better mom, alter a few choices I made that weren’t fair to them. I wish I could save them from some of the things they went through that were a direct result of decisions I made (or didn’t make soon enough). But we cannot go back, we can only go forward. The important part is acknowledging where I missed the mark, then striving to do better… and when I inevitably bumble again, acknowledge it and strive again to do better. I think this applies to every aspect of my life that matters, from relationships to career and even cooking breakfast (I don’t want to talk about the bacon fiasco).

I sit here writing this on Mother’s Day 2026 in the darkness of early morning, my children not far from me, snug in their beds in their grown-up homes with children of their own, and I am so proud of them. I see their strength, the way they constantly try to learn and do better for their kids. The way they pour into them, respect them, honor their different personalities and needs, celebrate them. The way they put them first. They are everything as mothers that I wish I would have been.

I am so fortunate that these daughters of mine have also challenged me to become a better person, invited me to see things in new ways, encouraged me to grow. I’ve been strong, for sure…. but they’ve been stronger, and their children will be stronger yet. What a life I get to live, watching this all unfold. xo