Mother’s Day: Becoming a Family, One Day at a Time
Mother’s Day invites us to pause and honour the women who nurture, protect and love so fiercely; this article offers a tender reflection on motherhood at its very beginning. Writing as a new father, the author shares a deeply personal account of watching his young wife step into life as a mother.
Before our daughter Margot arrived nine months ago, I thought I understood what love looked like.
I knew the steady affection between my wife and me, the deep roots of our families and the friendships we had built over our years living in Aotearoa New Zealand. I knew the everyday rhythms of work, rest and hobbies. Life felt settled—almost familiar.
And then Margot came and everything was new again.
Becoming parents far from home
People told us that becoming a parent changes you in ways you can’t anticipate—and they were right. What they didn’t mention is how much harder that transition feels when you live on the opposite side of the world from your families. As a couple hailing from Europe (originally England and France), we have long joked that Aotearoa New Zealand is ‘home away from home’. Over the years, we’ve watched many close friends come and go—back to Europe, to Australia, to wherever the next chapter took them. It’s the rhythm of expat life here, one we’ve learned to accept, even if it sometimes leaves us feeling unanchored.
But that rhythm became sharper once Margot arrived. Suddenly, the absence of family wasn’t just something we noticed at Christmas, it was something we felt on quiet Wednesday afternoons, or during those bleary 3am feeds, or the first time Margot rolled over and there was no one to gush to in person except each other. Our parents watch from afar through flickering screens, trying their best to share in the milestones.
And yet, as we slowly adjusted, we were surprised to discover just how strong a community can become when you’re forced to build it yourself. We found ourselves leaning on local groups, finding new friends in the same boat as us, and being surprised at the unexpected generosity of colleagues and acquaintances who have become something closer to family. It’s not the same as having our own parents down the road—but it’s real and it has held us up.
Watching my wife become a mother
If this first nine months of fatherhood has taught me anything, it’s that motherhood—true, every day, living, breathing motherhood—is astonishing to witness.
I knew my wife was capable, caring and wise long before Margot was born. But seeing her step into motherhood has been something else entirely. There is a vigilance about her now, a quiet watchfulness I had never seen. She notices things about Margot before I do—tiny shifts in her expressions, changes in her breathing, the difference between a hungry cry and a tired cry and a bored cry. She moves through the day with Margot like it is a dance the two of them are learning together.
When I’m at work, I sometimes picture them at home or in the park: Margot nestled against her mother’s chest, or gasping at the breeze, or practicing her wobbly sitting. My wife sends me photos, little glimpses of their world, soft light falling across Margot’s fair hair, small hands grasping colourful toys, or the two of them curled up reading a board book. I treasure every image.
Now that autumn has arrived, my wife will return to work, and this season of full-time motherhood will shift into something new. I can see her preparing for that, balancing excitement at re-entering her professional world with the inevitable tug of leaving Margot each morning. And I admire her for it deeply. Because motherhood, as I am beginning to understand, is not one fixed role. It is a calling that reshapes itself again and again.
The biblical echo of a mother’s heart
As I reflect on this first Mother’s Day as a father, my thoughts turn to the long line of mothers in the Bible—women whose stories reveal something essential about God’s heart.
There is Hannah, who prayed through her tears and entrusted her long awaited son, Samuel, into God’s care. There is Mary, who quietly pondered extraordinary things in her heart while raising a child destined to transform the world. There is Jochebed, who placed her baby Moses into a basket on the Nile—an act of courage almost impossible to comprehend. There is Naomi, who walked through grief and still became a source of strength to Ruth.
And then there is God Himself, who uses maternal imagery to describe His care for us: ‘As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you’ (Isaiah 66:13). Then Jesus speaking of longing to gather His people ‘as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings’ (Matthew 23:37).
These images remind me that motherhood—its tenderness, its fierce protectiveness, its watchful love—is not secondary or sentimental. It reflects a part of God’s nature, one sometimes overlooked but profoundly important.
When I watch my wife hold Margot close—when I see her soothe her with a softness only she seems able to summon, or notice how she stands taller and stronger whenever she senses something is amiss—I see something holy in her. Not perfect, not idealised, but sacred.
Learning fatherhood by watching motherhood
Becoming a father has been its own journey, full of small victories and many, many learning curves. I’ve learned to bottle feed, becoming competent at assembling formula with one hand at 5am. I’ve become intimately familiar with the different types of nappy (and which are the best), which toys are too loud and the surprisingly complex choreography of getting a baby into a car seat.
But the deeper lessons, the ones that shape me, have come from watching my wife mother our daughter.
From her, I am learning patience. I am learning presence. I am learning to slow down, to pay attention, to delight in small things. I am learning that parenting is not about getting it right—it is about being willing, humble and open-hearted.
And I am learning that love is not abstract. It is lived. It is hands-on. It wakes up in the middle of the night. It sacrifices. It forgives. It hopes. It keeps going.
Motherhood in modern times
We often talk about modern parenting as being harder than ever, and in some ways it is. Social media gives conflicting advice. There are infinite theories on sleep, feeding, developmental play and emotional regulation. You can Google the same question and get 10 opposing answers.
And yet, the access to resources—books from the library, online forums, video tutorials, community events—has been invaluable for us. In the absence of grandparents nearby, the digital and local community has stepped in. When we don’t know how to do something, we look it up. When the baby won’t nap, we read strategies. When we worry, we seek advice. It has kept us afloat.
Still, the heart of motherhood, and parenthood, remains timeless. It is the slow, steady act of showing up for a child, whenever they need you. Technology can support, but it cannot replace the fundamental things: warmth, safety, attention, love.
This Mother’s Day
This Mother’s Day will be quiet, I think. A slow morning. Strong coffee. Maybe a croissant to remind my wife of home. A walk if the weather holds. Time together, just us three.
But it will be significant, too. Because this year, Mother’s Day is not about abstract gratitude, it is about watching the woman I love become something new.
It is about honouring the sheer strength, devotion and courage she has shown every day since Margot arrived. It is about acknowledging that motherhood is not a soft role, it is a powerful one.
I see my wife stepping into that power with grace.
I see her shaping the early world my daughter knows, providing the first home Margot will remember not in images but in feelings. And I am grateful beyond words.
As a father, I want this day to be a reminder of how valued she is. I want it to be a reminder that her work—exhausting, ordinary, beautiful—is real, worthwhile and lasting.
The world has given us this child. God has given us each other. And He meets us in the midnight wakeups, the quiet whispers over the cot as she sleeps, the joy of new milestones, and the fragile, resilient hope that we are doing enough.
To my wife, this Mother’s Day
Thank you for every unseen moment.
For the evenings when you bathe her if I’m not around.
For the mornings when you hold her against your heart while the kettle boils.
For the tenderness that comes so naturally to you.
For the strength you don’t always see in yourself.
For guiding our daughter through her first months with such care.
For being her shelter, and mine.
Happy Mother’s Day. You are loved. You are a gift. You are God’s reflection to our daughter. And watching you become a mother has been one of the greatest privileges of my life.
