A Year of Learning, Becoming, and Staying Honest

As this year comes to a close, I’ve found myself reflecting less on milestones and more on the quiet lessons—the ones that didn’t announce themselves, but changed me anyway. This year shaped me both as a mom and as a doula, and those two roles continue to inform each other in ways I didn’t expect and can’t separate.

Motherhood keeps teaching me humility.

No matter how much I know, how much I’ve learned, how deeply I trust my instincts now, being a mom reminds me daily that control is an illusion. I’ve learned that love isn’t proven through perfection or patience that never runs out. It’s proven through repair. Through showing up again after hard moments. Through staying when things feel messy or uncomfortable instead of rushing to fix or explain them away.

I’ve learned that my child doesn’t need me regulated all the time—she needs me honest, accountable, and willing to slow down. I’ve learned that my body carries memory, resilience, and grief all at once, and that listening to it is an ongoing practice, not a destination. Motherhood continues to soften me in places I once armored, and strengthen me in ways that are quiet but steady.

As a doula, this year deepened my understanding of what support actually looks like.

I’ve learned that being helpful isn’t about doing more—it’s about attunement. About noticing when to step in and when to step back. About witnessing without fixing. I’ve learned that parents don’t need saving; they need space to trust themselves. They need to feel believed, respected, and not rushed through some of the most vulnerable experiences of their lives.

I’ve seen, over and over, how powerful it is when someone feels truly seen in their birth or postpartum experience—even when that experience was hard, traumatic, or far from what they hoped for. I’ve learned that healing doesn’t require a silver lining. It requires safety. Time. Choice. And often, permission to tell the truth without being corrected.

This year reinforced my belief that postpartum is not a six-week window, that bonding is not linear, and that emotional care is just as critical as logistical support. I’ve watched how creativity, ritual, and gentle presence can help people process what their bodies remember when words fall short. And I’ve learned to trust that slow work matters—even when it isn’t flashy or easy to explain.

What motherhood and doula work have taught me together is this: people don’t need to be pushed through transformation. They need to be held while it happens.

I end this year more grounded than certain. More curious than confident. More committed to staying honest—in my work, in my parenting, and in myself. I don’t feel the need to wrap this year up neatly or turn it into a lesson that’s fully resolved.

It was a year of becoming.

Of listening.

Of learning to stay.

And that feels like enough to carry forward.