Motherhood, Intuition, and Flow. Finding The Balance amidst the chaos!

Motherhood has a way of stripping you bare—of your routines, your control, your previous sense of self. It’s in that rawness, something ancient and intuitive begins to stir. You find that the maps you once trusted no longer apply. The schedule doesn’t always hold. The plans you cling to often unravel. And it’s in that unraveling that intuition begins to speak more clearly. If you’re willing to listen to it, that is.

In the chaos and beauty of mothering, you start to see that confidence isn’t built through mastery or control, but through surrender. You begin to trust your gut, not because it’s perfect, but because it’s yours. You realize that going with the flow doesn’t mean passivity—it means presence. It means releasing the grip on how you thought things should be and embracing them as they are.

Each moment becomes its own teacher:

A child’s meltdown.

A sleepless night.

A quiet morning where you remember how your own breath feels and your thoughts can be for yourself.

It is in these moments where you are pulled back into your body, into the now, where self-assurance is not about knowing everything—but about knowing yourself.

In allowing life to unfold—in accepting rather than resisting—you seem to find yourself again.

Not the old self, not the one you were before motherhood.

But a deeper, wiser, more fluid self.

A self that is rooted in intuition.

One grounded in acceptance.

One who trusts that she is enough, even when everything around her is uncertain or amidst a violent storm of static filled with blurred faces, tangled thoughts, and abrasive sounds from various sources.

I had briefly returned to myself in the Desert with my children this spring.

I didn’t know what I was looking for when I packed up and took my boys on a spontaneous trip to the Nevada desert. Maybe I was searching for silence, for light, or just for space to breathe while my home was in disarray and a cloud seemed to continuously storm upon me.

What I found was something deeper.

It was something I hadn’t realized I had been missing.

Out there, under open skies and sun-warmed winds, we greeted each day with nothing more than presence. No fixed itinerary, no rigid plans.

It was just the rhythm of our own choosing.

The desert had its own quiet wisdom, teaching us that life unfolds best when you let it. That joy doesn’t arrive on a schedule. It blooms in the in-between moments.

I watched my boys climb rocks and laugh into the dusty wind. I felt the grit of sand underfoot, the heat on my shoulders, the pulse of the Earth beneath us. There were tears too, of frustration, of release, of being stretched in ways I hadn’t anticipated. But they were good tears, cleansing ones.

In letting go of control, I found something I’d been missing for years: myself.

Motherhood had slowly, imperceptibly, wrapped itself around me in layers.

I was filled and overcome with:

Love, exhaustion, duty, and fierce protection.

Somewhere along the way, I had stopped hearing my own voice. But in the desert, I could hear it again.

Quiet, sure, ancient.

My intuition, once buried beneath noise and routine, was rising like the sun across the sand.

I remembered:

I am allowed to flow with life, not force it.

I can trust the wisdom within me.

I don’t need to have all the answers to be a good mother—or a whole woman.

My joy is not a luxury; it is a lifeline.

Adventure heals.

Warmth restores.

Presence transforms.

And so it did.

Our time together in the mountains was a story of contrasts—thrills and stillness, laughter and tension, the hard and the soft. And in those contrasts, I discovered a new kind of confidence. Not the loud kind. Not the one tied to productivity or perfection. But the grounded kind that comes from being exactly where you are, heart open, feet planted in the sand, saying yes to whatever life brings and accepting it for what it is. Releasing myself and accepting myself for where I am and thus, accepting my children for where they are.

The change of pace surely helped this state of mind I had.

Embarking so freely, I broke a generational cycle of my European past. I had the support of a strong partner, whom stayed back caring for our home and vulnerable pet.

I had found trust in my instincts again. It was something I had suffered the loss of for too long.

And am now finding glimmers of again.

They hold such joy,

such worth,

warmth,

and such value in my life.

I will accept them in this cycle and future ones.

I will hold dearly to them.

I will remind myself of them.

I will look back at the pictures and remember what they meant to me.

I will shed tears of growth, of gratitude, of my layers of myself no longer needed—the guilt now left behind to nourish the earth as a snake does during the process of ecdysis. Like they, I will leave my damages behind and continue growing and sharing what I can with those around me.

And now, as Mother’s Day approaches, I will hold all these reflections close to my delicate heart.

It will be my reminder that motherhood isn’t about getting it all right.

It’s about showing up, letting go, and allowing the journey to shape you. It’s about honouring the woman within the mother. And sometimes, all it takes is a change of landscape and the courage to follow your inner compass.

In that desert, I didn’t just give my boys an adventure—I gave myself back to me.

This is the woman I am becoming.

This is the mother I am learning to be.

A product of my past.

Strings of moments leading me here.

The good.

The bad.

And like a book, it is the cover that others see, or perhaps what I am willing, ready or accepting to show my world.

It's not what or who I necessarily am.

It's the part that protects the fragile pages inside.

The ones that can be torn in an instant.

Happy Mother's Day now and every single day, waking hour or night.

To all those guiding beacons of light in our children's world and those who raised us. Our step mothers, our in-laws, those who touched us from afar, our friends, our families, and those breaking barriers. Whatever shape you take, however the capacity you can muster, it all matters.

In a world that is learning to accept one another for what or who they are, I have always known in my heart it was a given. Know that your story is yours to keep or share however you decide.

Remember you are on your own personal journey in Motherhood too, wherever you are on it, among us.

With Love,

Melanie Watts

Nevada, USA: March 2025