I Became the Child
There are moments in parenting that shake you. Not in the way sleepless nights do, or the endless sacrifices, or even the weight of shaping a life. No—there are moments that reach deep into the most forgotten parts of you, the parts you’ve long since buried, and awaken something you didn’t know still existed.
I had one of those moments this week.
It was just my son and me. No distractions, no noise. Just the two of us, existing in a space so ordinary that I could have blinked and missed it. And then, without warning, he looked at me with eyes full of something so pure, so unwavering, and said:
“Mommy, I’m so proud of you. I’ll do everything for you.”
It hit me like a wrecking ball to the chest.
I could have prepared for “I love you.” I could have smiled through “You’re the best mom ever.” But this—this broke me in ways I didn’t know I could break. Because in that moment, I wasn’t just his mother.
I was me, the child I used to be.
I had spent a lifetime proving, achieving, overcompensating for a void I could never name. I had learned to exist without acknowledgment, to push forward without validation, to build without ever being told I had done well.
And yet, here was my son—my child—offering me the very thing I had spent my whole life chasing.
The shift was instant. For the first time, I wasn’t the mother protecting the child. I was the child being protected. And I realized something so profound that it changed me in an instant:
Sometimes, our children become the love story we never got to have.
The Unspoken Contract of Parenthood
We don’t say it out loud, but every parent is carrying a silent contract—an unspoken agreement to either repeat or repair the patterns we were raised with.
Some inherit love and multiply it.
Some inherit wounds and spend their lives making sure history never repeats itself.
I have spent every day of my son’s life being intentional—deliberate in every hug, every conversation, every bedtime story, every sacrifice. Not just because I want him to have a good childhood, but because I refuse to let him know the hurt I once did.
I refuse to let him wonder if he’s enough.
I refuse to let him feel unseen.
I refuse to let him go to sleep without knowing that someone in this world is in his corner, fighting for him before he even knows there’s a battle to fight.
And if that means pouring myself out, then so be it.
Because the weight of sacrifice is nothing compared to the weight of regret.
The Silent Wounds of Deception and Instability
But what about the parents who, knowingly or unknowingly, introduce their children to deception, instability, and brokenness? What about the ones who, through dishonesty or self-serving choices, create a reality where a child must navigate a world they never asked to be part of?
A child should never have to question where they belong. They should never have to wrestle with the weight of their parents’ unhealed wounds, nor should they be forced to stitch together the fractured pieces of a home shattered by choices made in secrecy. Lies unravel the very foundation a child stands on. Instability teaches them that love is fleeting. Deception rewires their innocence into suspicion. And long after childhood fades, these invisible scars shape the way they see themselves, the way they love, the way they trust.
If you are a parent standing at the crossroads of choice, know this: Brokenness was never meant to continue; it was meant to be corrected. Generational curses do not break themselves—someone has to rise, someone has to choose better, someone has to say, “This ends with me.”
Your child is watching, learning and absorbing everything. They will either inherit your healing or your wounds. Choose wisely.
For Parents Who Love Without Limits
To the parents who pour themselves into their children without pause, who bear the weight of the world with quiet dignity— your sacrifice is not just seen, its honored.
You walk a path of grace, where every decision is made, not for yourself, but for a future that lives in the hearts of those you love. When the earth trembles, you stand firm, steadfast in your commitment, knowing that your actions will echo through the life of your child in ways that words never could.
Let me tell you something no one ever told me:
One day, if you pour into your child with enough love, enough consistency, enough presence—without even realizing it, they will pour back into you.
And on that day, time will stand still.
Because you didn’t just raise a child.
You broke a cycle.
You built a foundation.
You created the love story you always deserved.
And when they look at you with eyes full of certainty and say, “I’m so proud of you”—
You will finally believe it.
XOXO,
Becoming Woman
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