There is a title that changes everything. It is not a job title. It is not an academic qualification. However, it is the one whispered in delivery rooms, earned in sleepless nights, and carried for a lifetime—Mother.
The moment a woman becomes a mother, she is transformed. This transformation is physiological, mental, and social. Nothing about her life remains the same.
The Body Pays First
Her body bears the evidence of sacrifice. The caesarean scar tells a story that begins before her child even draws their first breath. Furthermore, the hormonal turbulence of pregnancy takes a toll that words struggle to capture.
Morning sickness is rarely just morning sickness. In addition, the ache of breastfeeding through cracked skin and exhaustion is real — even while the baby still cries. Her body becomes a vessel. For many mothers, it never fully becomes their own again.
The Silent Sacrifices
However, the sacrifice does not stop at the physical. Mothers weep in silence so their children can sleep in peace. They endure what should not be endured.
Some remain in marriages that have long since broken them. They stay not because they are weak, but because they are thinking of the children. Others leave careers they loved. They step back from ambition—not out of defeat, but out of devotion.
In contrast, some enter the workforce with fire in their eyes. They work harder because the children need more. Meanwhile, many others leave behind everything familiar. They leave their language, their community, and their comfort.
As a result, they cross oceans and continents. They board plane after plane to build a better life for their children. They become diasporans. They become strangers in foreign lands. Nevertheless, they do it without hesitation.
A Mother Never Retires
No mother ever truly retires. Even when her children are grown, her work continues. When she can no longer provide physically, she gives counsel. When words fall short, she prays.
Furthermore, when she is no longer here, she lives on. Her values remain. Her love shows up in the way her children parent, endure, and show up for others.
I See You. I Celebrate You.
To every mother reading this — the tired one, the grieving one, the celebrated one, the unacknowledged one — I see you. I celebrate you.
In addition, I celebrate my own mother. Her life and story are the heartbeat behind my book, Beyond the Goat Pen. She is the reason that book exists. So are the selfless, enduring women I wrote about—Omotunde and Morayo. Their sacrifices deserve to be remembered, honored, and told.
Happy Mother’s Day. 💛