My three 3 golden Rules of Motherhood

When I became a mother, I quickly realized something that no book or theory had prepared me for: this wasn’t about knowing—it was about seeing. Feeling. Being. Everything I thought I knew had to be re-learned in the presence of a tiny teacher: my daughter, Atalanta.

Over time, through trial and plenty of error, I began to find a rhythm. Not a perfect routine, but a deeper understanding—a set of truths I could return to when I felt lost in the swirl of daily demands. I now call them my Three Golden Rules of Motherhood.

And no, they’re not prescriptive. They’re reminders. Anchors.

Let me share them with you.

1. Your state becomes their state.

In other words: If you go manic, your child goes manic. It sounds simple. It’s not. Especially when your baby keeps waking up every 20 minutes after just falling asleep and you are desperate for just a few hours on your own. Just once. And even an hour of rocking, feeding, shushing, and prayer doesn’t seem to help.

There were nights when I felt myself getting impatient—my breath short, my movements tense. All I wanted was for Atalanta to just sleep. So much that I noticed that I was about to raise my voice and become quite angry. But the more I willed her into rest, the more alert she became. Why? Because she was mirroring me.

That’s when I understood: You can’t t make a baby sleep. You can only calm yourself so fully that your baby would feel safe enough to follow you, relay and fall asleep. And sleep is a dark place, a time when they have to give up and give in.

Her nervous system learns from mine. If I want her to rest, I need to rest first—inside myself.

2. Expect the unexpected—and accept it.

The day you make a plan is the day your baby will surprise you. Like the other morning. I had a rare window to get things done. Atalanta had just fallen asleep, and I had a golden hour to work through at least five of the fifty things on my list. Coffee made. Laptop open. Brain on.

Five minutes in, I heard her stir. Then cry. Then sit up.

For a moment, frustration flooded me. The old story kicked in: I never get time for myself. I’ll never catch up. But instead of spiraling, I caught myself. I turned the page.

She woke up early. That’s what happened. That’s all.

So I picked her up, held her close, and reminded myself: presence isn’t the enemy of productivity. It’s the source of real connection.

And that’s all we can do. Accept the unexpected and be ok with it. It’s not always easy, but it’s as easy as you make it. The choice is yours—as it was and is mine. Your baby doesn’t have a watch, doesn’t know the time and certainly not how long he or she has been asleep or what else you have to do.

3. Be both teacher and student.

They’re small, but they’re not clueless. They know what they need—even if we don’t. One afternoon, I made Atalanta something I thought she’d love. She tried a bite and seemed fine, but at lunch she started spitting it out, shaking her head. I thought: She’s just playing. She’s not really hungry.

So I took her out of the highchair. She toddled to the cupboard, pulled out a baby food pouch, and handed it to me with the kind of clarity that said: Mum, this. Not what you made.

I was baffled. Heated it up. She ate every spoon.

It wasn’t a power struggle. It wasn’t manipulation. She just didn’t like what I made.

And I realized: being a parent doesn’t mean knowing everything. It means listening, too. And if you are willing to listen and look behind the rules that talk to you in your head, you’ll be surprised how much they can teach you.

These rules aren’t rigid—they’re living. One day it might be five instead of three. But right now they’re there for the moments when I feel ungrounded. When I forget. When I spiral. They remind me to lead with my nervous system, not my fear. To surrender to the reality of the moment, not the plan I made. To listen, not just guide.

Motherhood isn't about perfection. It's about presence.

And when you lead from that place—something beautiful happens.

You evolve together.