Let Someone Hold the Door for You

Yesterday, as I was walking my son to football practice, there was a moment that really got me thinking. As I reached the entrance, I noticed a couple of mums leaving, trailing a small herd of kids under five. One of them, a baby perched on her hip, paused to hold the door open for me.

I hesitated. Me? Walking through first?

Every instinct told me it should have been the other way around. I should have been the one holding the door for her—the woman juggling a baby and wrangling toddlers. Yet, there she was, effortlessly offering me the priority.

And in that moment, I saw my younger self.

Motherhood: A Role Without a Rulebook

Becoming a mum is a wild ride. There’s no manual, no strategy—just a whole lot of figuring it out on the fly. Trying to understand the needs of these tiny, unpredictable humans is like reading every fifth page of an encyclopaedia backwards. Confusing. Overwhelming. Utterly exhausting.

We step into parenthood, and with each passing day, pieces of who we once were seem to fade. We carry the weight—physically, mentally, emotionally. And for many of us, doing it all becomes the standard.

I remember those early years vividly. My husband worked away for most of the month, and I was running a small organic farm while raising our daughter. No family nearby. No real support system. Just me, a baby, and a never-ending to-do list. I held the motherload of responsibility. And while I loved our life on the farm, I can now see that I was stuck in survival mode, constantly doing, doing, doing.

I had built my identity around being the one who kept everything afloat. I opened the doors for others. I made things easier for everyone else. And I never, ever asked for help.

The Unspoken Pressures of Parenthood

Somewhere along the way, we pick up this idea that a ‘good’ parent is selfless, tireless, and all-capable. We compare, we measure, we doubt ourselves. We get so caught up in what we should be doing that we lose sight of what we actually need.

I didn’t buy a pram for six months. We lived on a farm, so I carried my daughter in a sling or nestled her car seat in a wheelbarrow for naps under the big gum trees. But then, the pressure crept in. Everyone else had a pram. Shouldn’t I have one too? Shouldn’t I be making things easier for her? So, I caved and bought a second-hand off-road one for £40. Did she care? Probably not. But I had convinced myself I needed to fit the mould.

Motherhood is full of these moments—where we bend, stretch, and mould ourselves into what we think we’re supposed to be. It forces us to face some uncomfortable truths:

1. We Discover How We’re Different

When we become parents, we often assume we’ll follow the familiar patterns we grew up with. Maybe we imagine ourselves raising our kids the way we were raised—or doing the exact opposite if our childhood wasn’t what we wanted. But reality has a way of shaking up those expectations.

I quickly realised I didn’t parent like the mums around me. I didn’t follow the typical routines, the same sleep schedules, or even the same approach to feeding. I was living in a way that worked for us, but I constantly wondered if I was “getting it right.” I thought I had to match what other mums were doing to prove I was a good mum.

But being different doesn’t mean we’re doing it wrong.

It means we’re figuring out what works for us.

And that’s the most powerful thing we can do—not copy someone else’s blueprint but create our own.

2. Our Habits Reflect Back at Us

If you want to know who you really are, watch your child.

Every little phrase, every tiny reaction, every moment of frustration—they pick it up. They absorb the way we handle stress, the way we speak to ourselves, the way we respond when things don’t go to plan.

For a long time, I thought my exhaustion was invisible. I believed that as long as I kept going—smiling, getting everything done, holding the door for everyone—my daughter wouldn’t notice how much I was struggling.

But kids don’t miss a thing.

The first time I heard my daughter sigh dramatically and say, “I have to do everything myself,” I froze.

She was mirroring me. She had picked up on my constant overwhelm, my habit of taking on too much, my reluctance to ask for help. And in that moment, I realised that if I wanted her to grow up knowing it was okay to rest, okay to share the load, okay to say, I need help—I had to start showing her.

3. We Realise How Much We Try to Control

Parenting has a funny way of making us control freaks. We want to protect our kids, shape their experiences, create the best possible outcomes. But the truth is, so much of it is out of our hands.

We can plan their meals, but they might refuse to eat.
We can set the bedtime routine, but they might wake up five times a night.
We can teach them kindness, but they will still have hard days and meltdowns.

It took me years to understand that trying to control everything wasn’t making me a better mum—it was just making me exhausted.

And when we’re exhausted, we stop letting people help us.

We stop accepting small kindnesses.
We stop saying yes to support.
We start believing we have to do it all.

It’s Okay to Let Someone Hold the Door for You

That mum yesterday—she wasn’t just holding a door. She was showing me something bigger.

It’s okay to receive. It’s okay to let someone help.

I used to think that being a good mum meant carrying it all. Now I know that being a good mum means knowing when to put something down.

We don’t have to be the ones carrying it all, doing it all, holding the damn door every single time. We’re allowed to be in the thick of parenthood, to get it wrong, to be messy, to need a break.

So, the next time someone offers to lighten your load—even if it’s as small as holding a door—let them.

Because you deserve support too.

And sometimes, the strongest thing you can do is step through that door and let someone else take the weight.