You’re Not the Pilot: Motherhood and the Illusion of Control

This past week, I took a flight with my toddler.

I worried about everything—Would he sleep? Would he cry? Would I cry!? Would we be those people everyone side-eyes while boarding? I packed snacks, backup snacks, distractions, and backup distractions. I planned for every variable I could control, because anxiety convinces you that if things go wrong, you are to blame.

And still, so much was out of my hands.

The turbulence. The delays. The weather. The fact that toddlers—and life—don’t care about your plans.

Sitting there, it struck me: maybe motherhood is a lot like flying.

You think can choose the timing (though we all know that is not always the case). You can pick your seat. You can do the work to prepare. But you don’t control the winds, the pilot, or the conditions at the destination. And that’s true whether you’re flying with a child beside you—or still holding the hope of one.

For some, the flight includes a toddler kicking the seat in front of you. For others, you’re still at the gate—watching planes take off, wondering when yours will be called, or if the route will change again.

Different seats. Same lack of control.

Part of motherhood—maybe even before it fully takes shape—is learning to live with that uncertainty.

There will be smooth stretches. There will be moments of unexpected turbulence. And there are long periods of waiting, waiting for clarity or resolution.

Maybe motherhood means learning how to enjoy the ride—because if you keep waiting until you know all the answers, you will end up wishing most of your life away.

And wherever you are in this journey, that experience counts.