> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://thedreampedlar.com/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # the one thing I'd go back and change in my motherhood journey if I could - URL: https://thedreampedlar.com/the-one-thing-id-go-back-and-change-in-my-motherhood-journey-if-i-could/ - Published: 2025-05-12T00:00:45.000Z - Updated: 2025-05-12T00:00:45.000Z - Description: reflections on my motherhood journey on Mother's Day - Author: Anitha Krishnan - Tags: field notes from liminal spaces I always say that motherhood has been the greatest spiritual journey of my life and it continues to be so. In no other sphere of my life do my triggers and anxieties come screaming at me so loudly. In no other arena of my life do my faults and misgivings feel so deceitful, as if they'll surely let me down when it matters the most in what feels like the most high-stakes aspect of my life: motherhood. Encountering these triggers and anxieties over and over again so I don't pass them on to my child is a feat in itself. Not only because it is a difficult task, but also because it's only since D's arrival have I been learning the skills required to cope, in a healthy way, with different emotions as they arise. Which means that in these past few years I've also learnt how to reduce the stakes involved and not hold myself to impossible standards of perfection. It's been a journey like no other and the teachings remain endless. But if there is one lesson I've learnt from these past almost-nine years of being a mother, one thing I wish I had done differently, it would be this: > *I wish I had felt less guilty and anxious and instead held myself with more compassion and trust every time I made a decision that felt contrarian.* There are exactly three instances I can think of in which fear kept me in a tight grip for a long, long time. ### when I chose to be a stay-at-home mother When I first decided to be a stay-at-home mother — D had not even turned a year old at the time — I wish I had not been so terrified of doing so. I didn't know of any other stay-at-home mother in the neighbourhood. I used to feel ashamed, even, thinking that any modern woman would have chosen to juggle career and parenting alongside, not put one on hold to serve the other. In hindsight, it was most certainly the best decision for both D and me. D has always been a child who likes to take his time with things, and I feel lucky to offer him childhood days that are not rushed and filled to the brim with endless activities. And with D being at home, I turned to writing more often than I'd ever done before. I too realized that I didn't want 18-hour workdays and I didn't wish to spend time away from him, especially in his early years. We pared our living expenses to fit within the budget of a single-income household. And truth be told, it has been an eye-opening experience for all of us, showing us what we truly cherish as individuals and as a family. ### when I chose to not have a second child About half a year after D was born, I slipped into postpartum depression. It was a terrible phase of life that lasted for a long time. KrA and I quickly realized that we simply weren't equipped to raise another child, even if we wanted to, with the resources we had. Yet, it took me a long time to accept that choice. I was always terrified that being an only child would scar D somehow. I thought he'd be lonely, not know how to interact with other children, and find himself friendless somehow. It was another mother of a single child who gave me the courage to accept my decision. The calm clarity with which she told me that her postpartum depression had been awful and that she didn't wish to subject herself and her family to it again gave me the confidence I sought to hold on to my choice. 8-year-old D is the loveliest child you'll ever meet. He's extremely friendly and accepting of his peers while also learning how to set healthy boundaries. When he's out on playdates with his friends, he looks after their siblings with such tender care. When he's at home, he can spend hours reading or drawing and colouring, coming up with new games while listening to Audible, and having delightful conversations with KrA and me. D has taught me that he knows how to enjoy his own company. It is a skill I never had. I still don't. Left to my devices, I sit and write these days. But that longing for other people's company — that of my mother, or a kind friend — always tugs at my heart. ### when I prioritize spending time with D over everything else When D's at home, I don't care about doing much else. Everything else feels secondary to being with him and playing with him. Now that he's much older, he can spend time by himself, reading or creating something fun. Often he'll ask me to give him company, and I never refuse him. But there was a time, not too long ago, when I'd worry that if I spent so much time playing with my child, he wouldn't learn how to respect my time or the fact that I have other things to do. How foolish those fears were! It was as simple as telling him I need 10 minutes for a quick nap, or that I need to finish loading the washing machine and that I'd be with him after that, or perhaps he could help me with some chores. And that's exactly what would happen. Either he'd help me out or he'd go off to keep himself busy while waiting for me. I'm lucky to have a child like D who is understanding and patient, who is good at understanding the other person's point of view, and leans towards problem-solving rather than complaining. I'd like to think this is partly the result of all my hard work during his early years when I prioritized him, treated him as an equal in conversation and consideration, and decided his thoughts and opinions were just as important as KrA's and mine in this household. My contribution is probably a mere 1%. The remaining 99% is D's inherently kind, generous and trusting nature. If I could go back and rewind time, I would make the same choices. Only, I'd trust myself a lot more and let go of much of that fear and anxiety that accompanied many of these decisions, even though they felt perfectly right at that point in time and feel even more so in hindsight. But perhaps that is too easy to say for I now know that fear is always a companion on this journey of motherhood and life. Wishing it away is wishful thinking and impractical. > *Instead of wishing it didn't exist, anticipating fear and being prepared to accept, acknowledge and accommodate it as part of the journey is the skill I wish I had worked on back then. It is certainly a skill I'm consciously practising these days.* --- *💫 If this reflection resonated with you, you might find further insight in my flash fiction piece, The Guardian Tree. It's a tale about confronting fears and stepping into the light—a metaphorical journey that parallels the path of conscious motherhood. Read it here:* [*The Guardian Tree*](https://thedreampedlar.com/tales-for-dreamers-the-guardian-tree/)*.* *✨ You might also like my poem 'Brushing Your Teeth With Mindfulness', which won an Editor's Choice Award in the Spirit First Poetry Contest in 2020\. Read it below.* #### Brushing Your Teeth With Mindfulness **by Anitha Krishnan* We spend one half of an hour brushing our teeth each morning not every minute is spent at the sink, of course you run around so I can sing the song you and I composed long ago “Please come back, please come back, Please come back to the ba-a-throom and brush your teeth using to-o-o-o-thpaste, Please come back to the ba-a-throom,” Set to the tune of This Old Man the notes to which you stop to play on the xylophone toothbrush in mouth half-chewn, half-forgotten, “Please come back, please come back,” I croon again from my perch on the toilet seat, well covered “My turn now,” I jump, as you return and I brush your teeth now, a rushed-up job reminding myself endlessly to be patient as you turn away to suck the paste or rinse and spit each time the brush lands on your teeth Our bathroom is a science lab you tilt your head this way and feel the water pool in your right cheek you tilt your head that way and feel the water pool in your left cheek then seep out of the corner of your mouth gurgling and bubbling like a fountain and you offer to clean the basin using your toothbrush it has bristles after all, doesn’t it? And I am torn between admiring you and worrying about how late we already are late to the start of your preschool It makes me laugh, really, how ridiculous my priorities are When I wish you’d just learn to brush in less than two minutes I realise I am wishing upon you a lifetime of deadlines and anxieties a lifetime of wrecked priorities Decades from now some mystic will come along and offer you an antidote to pain he will teach you and a million others how to brush your teeth feeling nothing but the squish of the paste, the motion of the brush, back and forth, and back and forth the coolness of the water swishing around in your mouth And you will look in the mirror your eyes seeking there the child who once knew the delight that lay in brushing his teeth with his mother for an entire half of an hour singing and dancing and chasing and being chased and gurgling and bubbling and experimenting and having a bath at the sink Who will come to your mind then, I wonder? A mother who rushed you through your childhood Or one who learnt from you how to live and simply let you be?