If there’s one thing that motherhood teaches me over and over again, it’s empathy.

Sure, I’ve learned (and unlearned) so many things since becoming a mom. But empathy? That’s on a whole different level. It’s no longer just a value I appreciate from others—it’s something I live, something I now feel in my bones.

I used to be a very punctual, highly organized person. I still am, to be honest. I’ve always had a deep appreciation for planning ahead and sticking to schedules. I was that person who quietly judged parents who came late to meetings or events. I thought, How hard is it to manage your time, really?

Well, enter motherhood.

When Chaos Happens Right at the Door

One morning, I had everything prepared—the bag prepared, everyone dressed, time buffer built in—and just as I was about to walk out the door, my baby had diarrhea. Just like that, everything unraveled. All the effort to be early meant nothing. We were late.

And that wasn’t an isolated moment. It happens more often than I care to admit.

Since then, I’ve stopped judging. Because I understand now—some days, no matter how prepared you are, things just don’t go as planned. So when another parent tells me they’re late because their kid threw a tantrum or spilled their entire breakfast on themselves… I get it. I really get it.

That shift in perspective, that understanding of other people’s unseen battles—that’s the kind of empathy I never fully had until I became a mom.

Planning Still Keeps Me Sane

I have to say, despite the chaos, my need for structure has actually helped me stay grounded in this whole journey. Before we even planned to have a child, my husband and I had long, intentional conversations—about our values, our families, our money habits, and the things we wanted to do differently as parents.

We didn’t just talk logistics. We talked about our childhoods, the things that helped us, and the things we wish were different. One topic that stood out for me was money management.

My parents are honest and hardworking, but they were also quite naive when it came to finances. I saw them fall for scams more than once—partly because they trusted too easily, partly because they just didn’t know any better.

That experience stayed with me.

So when my husband and I started mapping out our life as future parents, we both agreed: we don’t want our child to witness us being financially unstable simply because we lacked the knowledge. We decided to take it seriously. We hired a financial advisor, took time to learn, and committed to making smarter choices—even when it was hard or uncomfortable.

And of course, that was just one area. There were others. But I’ll save those for another time.

Motherhood is a Lifetime Upgrade

That decision—to actively learn and grow for the sake of our future child—was only the beginning. Because the truth is, parenting isn’t just about raising someone else. It’s also about constantly evolving yourself.

There’s always a new area to improve, something new to understand, or a different perspective to consider. You think you’ve nailed one thing down, and then life throws a new curveball. So yes, motherhood has taught me empathy—but it’s also taught me the importance of ongoing self-growth.

When Three Languages Were Chosen

Another major decision we faced was about how to raise our daughter in a multilingual household.

I’m Indonesian, my husband is Mexican, and at that time we lived in Mexico. English was our main language at home, so naturally, I assumed we’d just keep using it with our child. I figured she’d eventually pick up Spanish at school, and honestly, I didn’t see the point in teaching her Indonesian. No one else speaks it but me, so why bother?

But the more we discussed it, the more I realized—this isn’t just about practicality. It’s about identity, connection, and culture. I wanted to be able to have deep, heart-to-heart conversations with my daughter one day. And for me, those conversations would come most naturally in my native tongue.

We decided: I would speak to her in Indonesian, my husband in Spanish, and English would be our family’s bridge.

It Wasn’t an Easy Choice

We knew the risks. Research shows that multilingual homes can cause speech delays in children. So we made a plan: if she couldn’t speak clearly by 2.5 years old, we’d seek help from a speech therapist. We were okay with that.

I even paused my Spanish lessons during pregnancy. I had been progressing really well—speaking more Spanish with my husband—but I knew once the baby arrived, I wouldn’t be using Spanish with her. I didn’t want to confuse her with mixed messages. So I scaled back.

My husband also made the effort to learn Indonesian so he could understand conversations between me and our daughter. That way, none of us would be excluded—and yes, we definitely couldn’t use language as a secret code to talk behind each other’s backs!

A Tiny Moment That Meant Everything

Just before her second birthday, I witnessed something I’ll never forget.

We were in the living room. She picked up a piece of paper and I told her, in Indonesian, that it was trash and asked her to throw it away. She repeated after me in Indonesian, then ran to her dad in the kitchen and repeated it in Spanish.

I just stood there.

Did she really just switch languages so effortlessly, depending on who she was speaking to?

It was such a small moment, but to me, it was huge. It was one of those quiet victories that moms carry in their hearts.

The Return to Indonesia: Language, Culture, and Reverse Isolation

Not long after that, we moved to Indonesia.

Suddenly, my side of the family couldn’t fully understand her. I had to become her translator. She’d mix languages—or make up her own. She still called rice arroz, and strawberries were “obis” (no idea where that came from).

This time, it was my husband who experienced what I had felt in Mexico: the odd one out, speaking a language no one else did. It was awkward for him, but also kind of nice—especially when he needed to discipline her without anyone else knowing.

But being back in Indonesia brought new kinds of challenges. It felt like people didn’t fully understand our parenting style. For example, some questioned why I didn’t feed her rice three times a day, or why she used “you” and “I” when talking to adults—something that’s considered rude in Indonesian culture.

We knew we didn’t owe anyone an explanation. But it still stung. It felt like we didn’t quite fit in anymore.

Burnout and an Unexpected New Chapter

Around this time, both my husband and I were at our limit. Our work schedules were intense, we were exhausted, and my patience was wearing thin. I didn’t like the version of myself I was becoming—especially not the way I was reacting to my daughter.

Then came a chance to move to Spain.

We discussed it carefully. We weighed every angle—career opportunities, family dynamics, educational prospects. The idea of raising our daughter in Europe, giving her access to better systems, more support—it felt right. Even if it meant moving to a place we barely knew.

So we packed our bags, filed the paperwork, and boarded a plane. Just like that, we were beginning again.

Raising a Third Culture Kid (TCK)

Once we landed in Spain, it hit us: we weren’t just raising a child anymore. We were raising a third culture kid—a child growing up in a culture that neither parent fully belongs to.

We didn’t have all the answers. But we had each other. And we were determined to be emotionally and mentally present.

Here are some things we’ve learned along the way:

Emotional Support Matters More Than Ever

In just three years, our daughter lived across three continents and in nine different houses. That’s a lot of instability for such a small person. After the first big move, we realized our emotional absence took a toll. So for the move to Spain, I decided to pause my career until things felt stable. That decision wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.

We Are Her Anchor

She doesn’t have sentimental baby items that have followed her through the years. We had to leave many things behind. But we want her to know that her anchor isn’t in stuff—it’s in us. We’re the one constant she can always count on. Now I make a point to remind her: “No matter what happens, we’re here. We’re your home.”

Celebrate Her Uniqueness

Right now, she doesn’t fully realize how different her life is from her classmates. And to be honest, I kind of want it to stay that way a little longer. I don’t want her comparing herself unnecessarily. So instead, I keep telling her, “There’s only one you in this whole world, and that’s what makes you special.”

Her Voice Counts

We try to include her in decisions, no matter how small. Before our flight to Indonesia, I prepared her for weeks. I told her what to expect, what the plane would be like, what she could or couldn’t do. The result? She was amazing on that flight.

It taught me that when kids are informed and included, they rise to the occasion.

She Can Go at Her Own Pace

When we got to Spain, everyone asked us why our daughter wasn’t in school yet. In Indonesia, kids aren’t required to start until age five, but in Spain, everyone seemed surprised we hadn’t enrolled her.

We asked her if she wanted to go. She said yes. So we explained the routine, the expectations, and enrolled her.

The transition wasn’t smooth. Her teacher said she was too quiet and often isolated. But we knew our daughter. She just needed time. A few months later, her teacher told us she had started speaking in Catalan—her fourth language.

Another tiny victory. Another quiet celebration.

Still Learning, Always Growing

The things I’ve shared here aren’t parenting rules—they’re just lessons we’ve learned through experience. We still have so much to figure out, and we’re okay with that.

Because parenting, especially parenting a third culture kid, is a journey of continuous learning and re-learning. And while the challenges keep coming, so do the unexpected joys.

Like hearing your child switch languages mid-sentence.

Like watching her find pieces of herself in three different countries.

Like knowing that, despite it all, she’s growing into someone beautifully whole.

And if that’s not worth celebrating, I don’t know what is.