Mothers don't have to be the hero
As mothers, we often pride ourselves on being strong, unshakable figures in our children's lives. To them, we are superheroes—capable of handling countless tasks, always there to offer support and guidance. But behind this strength, there are countless moments of fatigue, doubt, and helplessness. We may rarely show this side of ourselves, fearing that it may diminish the image of the powerful mother we strive to be. But perhaps true strength lies not in always being invulnerable, but in sometimes allowing ourselves to show vulnerability.
"Mom gets tired, too. Mom has moments of weakness." These are the words I have learned to say. And in saying them, I realize that this vulnerability brings me closer to my children. It reminds them that I am not an unbreakable force, but a human being, full of feelings and emotions, just like them. I am not always strong, and that is okay. In fact, it is part of what makes me real.
There’s a certain power in admitting our imperfections. When I express my tiredness or emotional struggles, I am not giving up on my responsibilities as a mother. Rather, I am teaching my children an important lesson: we all have moments of weakness, and that is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s okay to ask for help, to lean on others, and to take breaks when needed. This message—one that says it’s okay to be human—is as important as anything else I teach them.
By showing my vulnerability, I have discovered a deeper connection with my children. They no longer see me as a flawless figure who never falters. Instead, they see me as a real person who, just like them, has highs and lows. In moments when I am honest about my struggles, I am not weakening my role as a mother; I am strengthening it. I am showing them that it’s okay to feel tired, to not have all the answers, and to sometimes need a little extra support.
This vulnerability doesn’t make me any less of a mother; it makes me a more complete one. I want my children to understand that love and strength come not only from giving, but from receiving, too. I show them that being strong doesn't mean never needing help—it means knowing when to ask for it, when to rest, and when to show our true selves.
The most important lesson I hope to teach them is that it’s okay to be imperfect. It’s okay to struggle. It’s okay to feel vulnerable. In fact, this is a part of what makes us human, and accepting it allows us to truly connect with one another. When I allow myself to show weakness in front of my children, I am giving them the chance to learn how to accept and support each other, not just in moments of strength, but in times of need as well.
Through this, we build a relationship based on understanding, love, and mutual respect. And perhaps that is the most powerful thing we can teach our children—not that we must always be strong, but that we can be strong by embracing our vulnerability.