Ever since becoming a mother myself, I’ve learned how to appreciate my mom a lot more. There’s a saying that you never truly understand your mother until you become one. It’s true, and I’m really grateful for everything that she’s ever done for me and this whole experience has brought us closer together.

I’m really grateful for the way my mom has raised me. She’s one of the biggest influences in my life and I think she’s the reason that I’ve got good in me at all. She isn’t perfect and neither am I, but I think upon reflecting on the past and in my growing years, I want to raise my son similar to how she raised me.

I don’t think there is a “right” way to raise children, but I know for sure one thing I would never do or find necessary to do is to hit Jace. I’ve never been hit as a child and I believe I turned out fine, but one thing that my mom always did was to talk to me and explain what I did wrong and why. I feel like it’s so much better because instead of instilling fear in children and leaving them in the dark and confused about what they did, they understand better and at the same time they will know that you care to take the time to talk to them and openly communicate with them.

Of course there are exceptions like when Jace is being extra stubborn and unreasonable but hitting him is always a last resort and also never in public. Fortunately for me, Jace has never thrown a huge tantrum, screaming and crying and causing a scene and I’m super appreciative of that.

In my opinion, often spanking, hitting, any form of corporal punishment are for lazy parents who just want a quick fix. Hit your child and they stay quiet and still. Problem solved. That’s the way it’s always been and everyone one grew up fine anyway right? Maybe that’s the way it looks on the surface, but everyone I’ve talked to who grew up being hit and caned had strained relationships with their parents. Some people tell me they eventually get used to being caned until it doesn’t hurt and work anymore, and a part of them stays angry at their parents for all the times they hit them.

I want to have a close relationship with my son and make him feel that he can depend on me and be open with me about anything so that I can be the one to guide him like how a parent should. Children are people, not pets or animals and they can understand and learn by listening.


As you all may know if you know me personally or if you’ve been following my life online, I’m a young mother. I feel that this is a large part of who I am, so I decided that I was going to write about my journey and publish it on this blog, all aspects of it and how the whole thing has affected my life and me as a person, emotionally, mentally and physically. This first post is about the beginning: how I found out I was pregnant, my reaction, my parents’ reaction and how i made the decision to raise Jace.

When I was growing up and discovering my sexuality, I learned that I had a condition: Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. It messed my hormones up, and it meant that it would be difficult for me to conceive. You know how each month, a woman’s ovaries release an egg? For someone with PCOS, the ovaries don’t release the egg and instead, the egg matures in it, and when it dies it turns into a fluid-filled sac that becomes a cyst in the ovary.

I spent a whole lot of my sexually-active life having irresponsible, unprotected sex and I guess I got careless because, throughout that whole period, nothing happened.

By some miracle, I did get successfully get pregnant, albeit unintentionally.

I didn’t have a lot of symptoms. I just felt like I was tired all time (which I already was but it just got a little more severe), and I had to pee a lot. I just thought I might be just drinking too much water. I didn’t consider that I might have actually gotten pregnant because of my condition.

I started noticing strange symptoms, like a stronger sensitivity to smell and adverse food cravings. Things that I liked to eat before like chicken made me nauseous, and I started yearning for things that I never craved for, like cake. I never liked cake or any kind of sweets (except chocolate).

A little backstory to help create context for my stroy: when i found out I couldn’t have kids, I told myself I didn’t want them anyway, just to make myself feel a little better about my disability. I thought to myself that children were just hindrances to the bigger things that you want to do in life, like travel the world, or have a successful career. On top of that, you’d only be contributing to the unfavourable rising number of the human population. Oh, wouldn’t it be so unfair to bring a life into this dying wasteland of what used to be Earth?

I’m not going to lie, when I first looked at the two red lines, my first thought was to get rid of it. I didn’t want kids, and at 17, I definitely did not feel ready. I didn’t trust myself with the responsibility of raising a child when I wasn’t even done growing up myself, in addition to my aforementioned beliefs.

At the same time, a part of me knew I would be struck with guilt and live with it for awhile if I were to go through with terminating the pregnancy, knowing what i could have done. I also thought that it may be my only chance to conceive and experience motherhood, considering my condition.

I was lucky. When our parents found out, they kept their cool and discussed the next course of action and my available options. Their assurance in their help and support for me was what helped me make my decision to proceed with the pregnancy. After seeing my son through the ultrasound, and knowing that he was healthy, I was determined with my decision.

Thus began a new chapter and a lifelong journey for me.

Jace is growing up really quickly and I don’t really know how I feel about that. Mostly happy, and just a little sad because I don’t feel like I’m there for him enough, as much as a mother should be.

I’m just so proud of him. Each time I visit him, he’s learned something new. He can count and sing so many different nursery rhymes, he’s able to understand many words in my native language, and he has brilliant memory. He remembers the numbers of the bus we take to travel from his father’s house to my house, where to stop, the direction, my block number and the storey we live on. He’s observant, and he asks so many questions. He’s smart and I can see it, and I know he loves learning. I hope it doesn’t change.

However, what’s most important to me is his character. It was never my focus to make him the smartest, most talented child. I just really want him to be kind and be a good person, and I believe everything will fall into place after that. The most effective way of teaching is by leading by example.

I’m so glad that even with the little time I spend with him, the amount of love and care I shower him with is reflecting through his actions. He can be so thoughtful and selfless sometimes and at the tender age of three and a half, he shares the last piece of his favourite snack with me (without me asking, if that means anything), asks me things like “Mummy are you hungry/thirsty?” and asks about my day.

Of course, he isn’t perfect; nobody is, and there are days when he’s extra stubborn and rebellious where he just wants things to go his way. Sometimes he does stupid things and acts up when he wants attention. It’s completely normal.

I really hope I that I can get it together more often so that I can properly be there for him.