As another year turns, there’s a familiar pressure to decide who we’re going to be next: what we’ll work on, what we’ll improve, and what we’ll finally get right. But motherhood has a way of softening that urgency.

After a year of showing up day after day — tired, present, imperfect — I find myself less interested in becoming someone new and more interested in holding onto what already feels steady. This year, I’m not focused on resolutions. I’m paying attention to what I want to carry forward — and what I don’t.

What I’m Carrying Into This Year

A deeper sense of presence.
Not the perfectly mindful kind — just the kind where I notice when I’ve drifted and gently come back. Presence looks different in motherhood. It’s fragmented and interrupted and often loud. Still, it matters.

Trust in myself.
Motherhood has a way of making you question everything. This past year reminded me that intuition grows quietly through experience, not certainty. I’m carrying more confidence in my own judgment — even when it isn’t flawless.

The understanding that seasons shift.
Hard days pass. Easier ones arrive. Then they change again. I’m carrying the reminder that nothing is permanent — not the overwhelm, and not the calm either.

Patience — imperfect, but growing.
Not endless patience. Not saintly patience. Just more than I had before. Enough to pause, breathe, and try again.

What I’m Letting Go Of

The pressure to do motherhood “right.”
There are too many voices telling us what should matter most. I’m letting go of the need to measure myself against ideals that don’t account for real life.

Overthinking every decision.
Some choices don’t need to be optimized. They just need to be made. I’m releasing the habit of replaying small moments long after they’ve passed.

The belief that productivity equals worth.
Motherhood is full work — even when nothing tangible gets crossed off a list. I’m letting go of the idea that rest needs to be earned.

Comparing my pace to someone else’s.
Different homes move at different speeds. Different children need different things. This year, I’m choosing to honor the rhythm that actually fits us.

A gentler way forward

Carrying something into a new year doesn’t mean holding it tightly. Letting go doesn’t mean abandoning care. It simply means noticing what feels supportive — and what quietly weighs you down. I don’t know exactly what this year will bring. But I do know that moving forward with a little less pressure leaves more room for what matters most: connection, steadiness, and moments of unexpected grace in the middle of ordinary days. And for now, that feels like enough.