Motherhood has a way of revealing parts of yourself you didn’t even know were still hurting. When I became a mom, I expected sleepless nights and endless to-do lists—but I didn’t expect it to trigger painful childhood wounds while also mending the parts of me that were still aching.
This post is part of my ongoing series on motherhood and inner child healing—a journey of love, mutual care, and the kind of acceptance I never knew I was missing. If you’re new here, you can start with my first post: Why Becoming a Mom Opens Childhood Wounds.
How the Parent-Child Bond Can Heal Old Wounds
There’s something sacred about the bond between parent and child: the gentleness of holding him in my arms, his small hands reaching for mine, the sweetness of his voice calling “mama,” the warmth of his embrace. These moments have softened parts of me that once felt closed off. I feel love again—love I once knew with my grandmother but had long forgotten.
What I didn’t expect was how becoming a mother would awaken the parts of me still aching from childhood—the part that craved attention, safety, and love; the part that learned to be anxious, to please, to tiptoe around others’ feelings to avoid disapproval.
I was taught to obey, to be a “good” girl, or risk upsetting the adults around me. That anger they carried? It was real. I can still feel it in my body.
For years, I’ve carried a quiet, heavy resentment—for all the moments I felt unseen, unheard, or unloved. It wasn’t just about isolated incidents; it was the accumulation of years spent feeling like my emotions, needs, and wants didn’t matter. That rejection lived in my body, shaping how I saw myself.
But my son is teaching me something new. He loves me not because I’m perfect, but because I care for him, understand him, and accept him as he is. And in the mirror he holds up, I see that love and acceptance reflected back at me. Even when I’m tired, overwhelmed, or not at my best—he still reaches for me. In his eyes, I am enough.
Lessons in Love, Acceptance, and Setting Boundaries as a Mom
Lately, he’s been wanting to stay up far past both his bedtime and mine. I tell him honestly, “I’m really tired. I need to go to bed. And you need to go to bed too.” At first, this led to meltdowns. He would plead for me to stay, and I’d explain that I just couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.
Some nights, after reading him over ten books without success, I’d finally let him stay up with his dad. He was disappointed, but over time he began to accept it. The next morning, everything between us was still warm and whole. He’s learned to respect that I need to sleep early, and I’ve learned that I don’t need to force bedtime—though I’m still hoping it’s a phase he’ll outgrow soon!
Children Reflect the Love We Give Them
Our children truly are mirrors, reflecting back what we teach them in everyday moments.
With my son, I don’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to shape-shift or silence myself. I can set boundaries. I can be me.
In the ongoing cycle of giving and receiving, of seeing and being seen, our bond deepens. And that’s what’s healing my heart.
Through him, I’m learning that love isn’t static—it’s alive. It grows when nurtured, deepens when reflected, and transforms us when we allow ourselves to be softened by it.
Looking at him, I’m reminded that we are all born with the capacity to love. No matter what you’ve been through, open your heart to your child—they’ll return that love in ways that can heal you from the inside out.
From My Journey to Yours
Writing this was deeply personal. If you’re healing from childhood wounds or learning how to give and receive love in new ways, you’re not alone. Sometimes the deepest healing comes not from big breakthroughs, but from the quiet, consistent moments where we feel safe enough to be seen.
My son has become one of my greatest teachers—his openness to love and his unapologetic way of asking for what he needs remind me that this is how humans are born. We are meant to be who we are and ask for what we need—without apology.
Have you ever experienced a relationship that made you feel more whole or seen in unexpected ways? What did it teach you about love?
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