Mothers Stand Still

 I heard this quote the other day—Mothers stand still so our children can see how far they’ve come—and it hasn’t stopped bouncing around in my head since. Maybe it’s because I’m in the thick of motherhood right now or maybe it’s because I’m realizing how much of it is about standing still, holding space, while your child grows, moves, changes right in front of you.

I used to think motherhood was all about moving forward. Pushing ahead, constantly evolving, keeping up with the endless cycle of milestones and firsts—first words, first steps, first day of school. There’s this unspoken pressure to keep everything moving. It's like if you stop for even a second, everything will fall apart. But what no one tells you is that sometimes the most important thing you can do as a mother is to stand still.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, especially as my son gets older and more independent. He’s learning new words every day, running faster than I can keep up, growing into his little self in ways that take my breath away. Toilet Trained????!! Yet every now and then, he looks back. Just to check if I’m still there.

That’s what it means to be a mother, I think.

To be the constant. The one who stays, who holds space, who stands still while your child explores the world, knowing they can always look back and see you. It’s not always glamorous. In fact, most of the time, it’s the opposite. It’s wiping noses, picking up toys, waiting in the doorway as they struggle to put their shoes on their own. It’s saying I’m here without needing to say anything at all.

 And it’s hard.

It’s hard to stand still when everything in you wants to move, to fix, to control. But standing still doesn’t mean doing nothing. It means being present. It means holding space for them to figure things out, to fall down and get back up, to make mistakes and learn how to make it right. It’s letting them run ahead while trusting that they’ll come back. It’s understanding that your role isn’t just to lead them, but to stand beside them, to show them that they’re capable of so much more than they know.

As mothers we become these mirrors, reflecting back to our children the strength and beauty they can’t always see in themselves. We stand still so they can see how far they’ve come, because in our stillness, they can measure their own progress. They can look at us and know that they are safe, that they are loved, that no matter how far they go, we’ll always be there, standing in the same spot, cheering them on.

There’s a quiet power in that, in knowing that your presence is enough. In a world that tells us we need to be everything, do everything, achieve everything—just standing still feels like rebellion. It feels radical. But it’s exactly what our children need. They don’t need us to have it all figured out. They just need to know that we’re there,  so that when they turn around, they can see how far they’ve come.

Because that’s the thing about motherhood—it’s not about how far we go. It’s about how far they go, knowing we’re the ones who gave them the space to get there.

Payton x