I became a mother very early at twenty.

Back then, I truly believed my life had taken an irreversible turn for the worse. I thought the carefree part of my life was over forever. And in a way, that was true. But there was another truth I couldn’t see yet.

I never liked the idea that a child should give you meaning or motivation. I always believed those things come from within, from your own inner strength. But my child gave me something far deeper than motivation he became a source of growth.

As he grew, my own love for life grew with him. He helped me understand so much about myself simply by being who he is. And my intense desire to be a good parent not to suppress him, not to break him, but to let his personality unfold quietly guided me toward becoming a better parent to myself as well.

I’m deeply grateful he is in my life. Sometimes I feel he is like a guide, a traveler walking through my life with me. He grows, and I grow with him.

In my hardest moments, I always held onto one truth: he should not suffer because of me or my choices. I want his life to feel good, light, and safe. And yes, my choices did bring challenges into his life a divorce, moving to another country again and again, painful breakups. But I know I am his support, his constant, and he knows it too.

People often say parents have nothing left to do except talk about how wonderful it is to have kids. But the real story is that truly enjoying parenthood is not easy. It doesn’t come automatically.

For years, even while raising him, I felt unprepared for motherhood. I felt the weight of it, the heaviness, the sense of no way out. And maybe it’s simply because he’s older now, but today being with him brings me an enormous joy. Being surrounded by children fills me with something warm and alive.

When children are loved, not suppressed, when they’re given space to unfold like petals of a flower, they become pure energy — joy, creativity, love, wild imagination. And I was able to understand all of this only because I became a mother.

I love him deeply. And I’m grateful that back then, I was completely wrong.

Also want to share Paul Graham’s essay about kids