Growing Up Together
Yesterday, my friend and I were talking, and he said to me, “Hana, when are you going to blog again?” I laughed and said, “I don’t know. I blogged last week. I have to be inspired to blog.” He responded, “Well, let’s learn Torah.” And here I am today, after that conversation, feeling inspired.
Today, I was downstairs with a contractor and running to the city, I stepped into my boys' rooms and started looking at their pictures on the wall. I found myself reminiscing about our past, about how much we have all endured and how much we have grown. All three of my kids grew up with a different version of me, and the truth is, they literally grew up with me. I had my first son when I was 20, my second at 22, and my daughter at 26. Looking back now, it amazes me to see how much we have all grown together since the day our lives took different paths.
When I was getting divorced from my boys’ dad, life was incredibly difficult. I felt like I was in the darkest hole of my life. I tried to hide all the pain behind closed doors, but my oldest kids would sometimes hear me crying. They would quietly come in, bring me tissues, hug me, and cover me with blankets. That was the version of me nobody saw. People always call me strong, but they didn’t see what was happening inside our home. They didn’t see the nights when I felt completely broken. Yet somehow, each one of my boys played a role in helping me heal.That was the moment I made a decision. We might have had a broken home, but that didn’t mean they had to have a broken mom. So I pushed myself to grow.
That is when I began turning to Hashem. Slowly, through pain and uncertainty, I started understanding my purpose. My children didn’t deserve to feel abandoned. They deserved love, stability, and strength, and little by little, I began building for them and for myself. As we slowly healed, we began finding pieces of ourselves again. My boys were growing into respectful, loving young boys who were learning how to care for the people around them.
And then life tested us again.
I hit another rock bottom when I was pregnant and all alone. My boys were still so young, yet they stepped into roles that children should never have to carry. They would check on me constantly, asking if I was okay. They would bring me things I needed, sit next to me, and make sure I wasn’t alone. I remember my oldest watching me closely, almost as if he understood that I was going through something deeper than just pregnancy.
But this time was different.
This time I didn’t fall and lose myself the way I once had, because by then I had Hashem in my life. I had already begun walking a more religious path, trying to follow the right direction and make the right decisions even when those decisions were scary, and somehow, with strength we carried each other through it.
That kind of strength doesn’t come easily. No child should have to experience that kind of responsibility so early in life. But through it all, Hashem gave them a gift, a gift to grow through those moments and absorb what they were witnessing so that one day they could bring that same care into their own lives. One day, they will bring those lessons into their own homes and marriages. Even now, I see it in the way they take care of their little sister, the way they watch over her, guide her, and protect her. That is what growing up together looks like.
It is one of the greatest blessings in life to watch your children grow. Sometimes I run on short fumes with them. I get overstimulated, and motherhood can be exhausting. But I try to keep my peace inside for them. I try not to yell. I try to let them simply be kids and enjoy life while it lasts before they become young men and adults.
People often tell me, “You have such behaved kids. They’re so calm and well-mannered.” And sometimes I laugh to myself and think, ME… good kids? But the truth is, BH they really are good kids, and sometimes I get tough and forget that at the end of the day, they are still just kids. They are learning. They are growing. Just like I am.
My kids remind me to slow down. They remind me how beautiful I look. They tell me I’m a great mom even on the days when I feel like I’m failing. They offer to help, and they share things with me, even the uncomfortable things I sometimes don’t want to hear. But it makes me happy because it means we created something real. We created trust.
And you think they are just kids, right? But these kids have grown so much with me that they know when I’m having a bad day and when I’m having a good day just by my facial expressions, my body language, or even my silence. Sometimes I don’t even have to say a word. They know when I need a cup of tea. They know when to sit next to me quietly. They know when to offer help. And the same goes for me. I’ve learned their emotions, too. I’ve learned when to give them space, when to guide them, and when they simply need their mom. But I also remind myself of something important: we are not just friends. I am their mother first, and then their friend, and that balance matters.
When I look back at everything we have been through, I see we weren’t just surviving those years, we were slowly building our foundation and becoming the people we were meant to be.
With all of this, I hold on to Emunah. Emunah that everything we have been through is part of a bigger plan. Emunah that Hashem is guiding us, even in the moments when I feel completely lost. Emunah that the pain, the struggle, and the growth all have meaning. I believe that this is only the beginning of Hashem’s plan for us. We still have a whole lifetime ahead of us to watch our story unfold, to continue growing together, and to see what the future holds. And with Hashem’s help, we will continue building together, creating an even stronger and greater foundation.
Emunah