🌸 I Thought I Was Meant to Be a Mother… But the Universe Had a Plot Twist

When I was younger, I had this dream —

not the kind you chase with coffee and Pinterest boards —

but the kind that lands in your bones.

I was told I came here to be a mother.

Naturally, I assumed that meant raising my own children, packing lunches, and being the mom who does spiritual protection sigils on field trip day. (You know, the usual.)

But for a while, logic laughed at that dream.

Circumstances weren’t aligning. Biology wasn’t cooperating.

And I thought… maybe I misunderstood.

Then my miracle boy arrived — the kind of soul you don’t birth so much as magnetize with every cell of your being.

He changed everything.

But that dream? It still felt bigger somehow.

Incomplete.

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And then... the last few days happened.

I wasn’t seeking answers.

I was just doing what I always do —

pouring my energy into my work like a Greek priestess on a deadline.

And the messages started coming in…

Client after client, soul after soul, sharing how they felt:

> “You held me like a mother would.”

“I felt safe for the first time.”

“You raised me in a way my own mother couldn’t.”

Cue the emotional snot-cry, my friends.

Because that’s when it landed.

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I am a mother.

To many.

To lineages.

To new versions of people birthing themselves.

Not always with lullabies and lullabies.

Sometimes with sacred side-eye, sometimes with light codes.

Always with love.

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Do I give too much energy? Absolutely.

Do I go above and beyond? You bet your cosmic socks I do.

But what I receive? The trust, the transformation, the truth of it all?

It’s worth every drop.

This is the kind of mothering they don’t talk about.

The kind where you midwife souls back to themselves.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

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