I am a mother of two. When I was pregnant with my first baby, I thought I knew everything about raising a child and that I would not need any support. But within a few days after my baby boy was born, I realized how wrong I was. I struggled with simple things like getting him to sleep, feeding him, and understanding what he needed when he cried.

I kept reassuring myself, “Once he starts sleeping through the night, things will get easier.” Then it became, “Once he crawls… once he walks… once he talks… once he becomes potty trained… once he learns the alphabet… once he goes to college…” Somehow, the finish line kept moving. It never really ends.

Years later, when my daughter was born after a long gap, I thought I had become a master at parenting. I thought this time I knew exactly what to expect. But nothing seemed to work the same way. I am not sure whether it was because she was different, because of the age gap, or because every child writes their own story. Suddenly, I felt like I was starting all over again.

That is when I realized something. Perhaps life is not about reaching a stage where we finally have all the answers. Maybe it is about continuously learning, adjusting, and accepting that every answer brings new questions.