And why I stayed anyway.
There is a moment in parenting no one warns you about.
It’s not loud.
It’s not dramatic.
It doesn’t come with tears or tantrums.
It’s the quiet moment when you could walk away.
And no one would know.
The house is messy.
The day was long.
Your patience is already spent somewhere between breakfast and bedtime.
And then—
something small happens.
🕯️ The night I hit my limit
I remember one night so clearly.
Everyone was finally in bed.
Or so I thought.
I had already done the stories.
The hugs.
The water refills.
The “last time, I mean it.”
I sat down for the first time all day.
And then I heard it.
“Mommy?”
Not crying.
Not urgent.
Just… soft.
Everything in me wanted to pretend I didn’t hear it.
I was tired in my bones.
Not sleepy tired.
The kind of tired where even kindness feels heavy.
I stood there, frozen.
I could walk back.
I could say, “Go to sleep.”
I could choose quiet.
And for a second—I almost did.
🪑 The pause no one sees
Parenting is full of invisible moments.
Moments where nothing happens on the outside,
but everything is decided on the inside.
I went back.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
“What is it?” I asked, trying to sound gentle when I felt anything but.
They hesitated.
And then came the words:
“I just don’t like when it’s dark. I think too much.”
That was it.
No big fear.
No crisis.
Just a small truth that needed space.
🫧 Choosing presence when you’re empty
I didn’t fix it.
I didn’t have a speech.
I didn’t say the perfect thing.
I just stayed.
We sat there quietly.
The room dim.
The day finally over.
Their breathing slowed.
My shoulders dropped.
And I realized something uncomfortable:
They didn’t need my energy.
They needed my availability.
Even the tired version.
Even the quiet one.
Even the one who wanted to be done.
🧡 What those moments give back
Parenting isn’t only in the big gestures.
It’s in the decision to turn around instead of walking away.
To sit instead of rushing.
To listen when you feel empty.
Those moments don’t look like love.
They cost like love.
And somehow—
they fill you later, when you least expect it.
🌙 After the door closes
Eventually, I left the room.
The house was quiet again.
I didn’t feel proud.
I didn’t feel accomplished.
I just felt… human.
And that was enough.
Because parenting isn’t about always wanting to stay.
It’s about staying anyway.
Love,
Rochel
A mother of 4 of the cutest children. I have seen the ups and downs in motherhood. Subscribe to this newsletter to hear my raw and honest thoughts on the joys and chaos of motherhood.
