Growing up, my mother and I were like

fire and kerosene 

 one small spark and everywhere would explode.

“Mawunmi, come and wash plate!”

“Mummy I’m coming!” (But I was never coming.)

Sometimes we argued so much the whole compound knew our timetable.

I thought she was too strict…

too controlling…

too extra.

And I always told myself,

“When I have my own children, I will NEVER stress them like this.”

Life heard me.

And life said, “Okay now… let’s see.”

Pregnancy humbled me.

Morning sickness that came morning, afternoon, midnight.

Back pain like someone used me to rehearse WWE.

Food wey I normally like suddenly became my enemy.

One day I called her, voice shaking,

“Mummy… how did you survive this?”

She just laughed and said,

“You will understand with time.”

Labour day came.

My God.

If I EVER disrespected my mother before,

the pain reset my whole memory.

I confessed sins I didn’t even commit.

Called Jesus, angels, everybody.

Promised God I would never argue with my mother again.

Just deliver me.

Then my baby arrived…

and that was when motherhood truly began.

Sleep? Gone.

Body? Not mine again.

Food? If I eat, fine. If I don’t, who cares?

Every 40 minutes, I’m awake.

Every second, someone needs me.

And who was standing by me?

My mother.

She cooked.

Cleaned.

Carried the baby.

Looked at me and said,

“Mawunmi, go and sleep small.”

This woman… with all her strength, patience and love…

I finally saw her clearly.

One night, after crying from exhaustion,

She held me and whispered,

“Now you understand why I was hard on you.”

And truly… I did.

Motherhood softened me.

Shaped me.

Broke me.

Rebuilt me.

Taught me gratitude.

Now anytime I look at my baby, I think:

“Mummy, you deserve a crown.”

I came to respect her in a way I never thought possible.

Motherhood will humble you.

It humbled me… beautifully.