Motherhood & Legacy: Breaking the Cycle for the Next Generation

Motherhood is often spoken about in terms of sacrifice—what we give, what we endure, what we pass down. But for me, motherhood has been about something else entirely: breaking cycles.

I was raised in a world where love was conditional, protection was absent, and the people who should have been my safe haven were the ones who failed me the most. My childhood was not a place of warmth or security but one of survival, where I learned early that the people who brought you into the world weren’t always capable of keeping you safe in it. I carried that truth with me for years, wearing it like armor, believing that to be strong meant to endure.

For a long time, I was certain I wouldn’t become a mother. I was afraid. Afraid that I would repeat the same abusive behaviors that broke me. Afraid that I would damage my children in ways I couldn’t undo. Afraid that if I failed them, I would never be able to forgive myself. I knew too well the weight of a mother’s absence, the wounds inflicted by neglect, by misplaced anger, by a love that was meant to protect but instead destroyed. I didn’t want to risk being the source of that pain.

But then, I became a mother. And everything changed.

I refused to pass down what had been given to me. I refused to let my children feel unseen, unheard, or unprotected. I made a choice—one that generations before me may not have had the tools or freedom to make. I chose to mother differently.

For my children, love is not something they have to earn. It is given freely, abundantly. They don’t have to wonder if they are enough—I remind them every day that they are. They don’t have to silence themselves to be accepted, to be safe, to be wanted. In my home, their voices matter. Their feelings matter. They matter.

This is my legacy. Not wealth, not titles, not a perfect life free from hardship. My legacy is the safety and security my children feel in my presence. My legacy is the way they will never have to question whether or not they are loved. My legacy is the cycle I have broken.

For generations, the women in my family carried pain they never asked for, burdens placed on their shoulders by a world that did not protect them. I see them, I honor them, and I refuse to repeat their suffering. I am the bridge between what was and what will be.

This is what motherhood means to me. It is not just about raising children—it is about creating a foundation strong enough for them to stand on, so they never have to rebuild themselves from broken pieces like I did.

I am their mother. I am their protector. I am their legacy.

This month, as we honor the resilience of women, I stand in that lineage—not just as a survivor, but as an architect of something new. A legacy of love. Of protection. Of freedom.