Be The Plot Twist

“There’s no way to be a perfect mother and a million ways to be a good one.” — Jill Churchill

Hey everyone!

It’s been a productive week! Normally, I’d be here thirsting over unattainable celebrities or oversharing about my inability to keep a houseplant alive, but today I want to pause for something a little more heartfelt.

Mother’s Day.

Mother’s Day always arrives with the same soft promise: flowers, cards, a reminder to call home. But the older I get, the more I realise motherhood is far bigger, messier, braver, and more varied than any supermarket aisle or pastel greeting card could ever capture. It isn’t one story. It’s a whole anthology — some chapters joyful, some complicated, some unfinished, some written in a kind of love that never gets spoken aloud.

So this year, I want to honour every woman who has ever carried the weight of care. Every woman who has ever held someone else together. Every woman who has ever mothered in ways the world doesn’t always see.

To the mothers who raised us — the ones who did the school runs, the late‑night worry, the early‑morning everything (and never once left us at the supermarket, at least not for long). The ones who taught us how to be kind, how to be strong, how to be ourselves.

To the mothers doing it on their own, building entire universes from scratch every single day. The ones who don’t get to “hand over” when they’re tired, and whose coffee is never quite hot. The ones who are both soft place and safety net, rule‑maker and rule‑breaker, comfort and consequence. The ones who love with a kind of stamina most people will never understand.

To the step‑mothers who walked into a story already in progress and chose to love anyway — gently, patiently, bravely. To the mothers‑in‑law who opened their families and made space for us, even when it meant shifting the shape of their own traditions. To the dads, uncles, and friends who mothered when life called for it. To every family stitched together by choice as much as by biology.

To the adoptive mums, foster mums, and kinship carers — aunties, sisters, cousins, grandmothers — who stepped into motherhood because life asked them to. Not always with preparation. Not always with warning. But always with heart.

To the friends who became mother figures without ever being given the title. The ones who show up with food, with advice, with a listening ear, with the kind of care that quietly stitches people back together.

And to the mothers whose babies aren’t here — or were never able to stay — you are mothers still. Your love didn’t vanish. Your grief doesn’t disqualify you. Your story belongs in this day just as much as anyone else’s. Motherhood is not measured in years or milestones or photographs. Sometimes it’s measured in longing, in memory, in the shape of a love that had nowhere to land.

There are also the women who longed for motherhood but life had other plans — those who carry a quiet ache on days like this. They deserve gentleness too, and a place in this conversation.

Motherhood, in all its forms, is a constellation. Some stars burn bright. Some flicker. Some fill the room with laughter, some with the smell of toast on a Saturday morning. Some hide in plain sight, or show up fashionably late. Some show up exactly when you need them most. But every single one matters.

So today, let’s widen the lens. Let’s honour the women who raised us, the women who shaped us, the women who held us when we were breaking, and the women who held us even when they were breaking. Let’s honour the women who mother through biology, through choice, through circumstance, through grief, through community, through sheer stubborn love.

If someone has ever mothered you—by blood, by choice, or by circumstance—maybe drop them a message today. Or, if you’ve been that person for someone else, take a second to appreciate just how much that means.

Mother’s Day belongs to all of you.
Every version of motherhood is real.
Every version deserves to be seen.

However you spend this day, I hope you feel seen and valued — or that you take a moment to make someone else feel that way.

And if you’re still learning to mother yourself, know that’s worth celebrating, too.

So, as always, let’s switch up the narrative, rewrite the script, and actually be the plot twist.

And if no one’s told you lately: you’re doing better than you think.

Happy Mother’s Day to you and yours.

Much love,

Katie x