I have an odd relationship with motherhood. I've never had that

The English author and broadcaster Dawn O’Porter once confessed with disarming honesty: “I have an odd relationship with motherhood. I've never had that relationship of this unconditional friendship, deep bond that you have with somebody, but I have it now with my son.” In these words, she unveils one of the most intimate revelations of the human heart—the mysterious and transformative nature of motherhood, and how it reshapes one’s capacity to love. O’Porter speaks not from sentimentality, but from awakening: a woman who, perhaps uncertain of the depth of her own tenderness, discovered in her child a mirror to the boundless compassion she did not know resided within her.

Her words reveal that love, in its truest form, is not always instant or instinctive—it can be a journey, sometimes slow, sometimes bewildering. Before becoming a mother, O’Porter admits she had not known the “unconditional friendship” that others spoke of—a love that gives without expectation, forgives without reason, and endures beyond understanding. Yet when her son entered her life, that door within her heart opened. The bond she speaks of is not mere affection, but something spiritual—a recognition that between a mother and child exists a covenant older than memory, sacred as the rhythm of the tides.

The origin of her truth lies in the modern human struggle: to understand love not as an ideal, but as something that grows through vulnerability. Many women—indeed, many parents—feel what O’Porter expresses yet rarely voice it. Society has long painted motherhood in perfect hues, as though every mother instantly feels celestial affection. But O’Porter, in her candor, shatters illusion and offers something more beautiful: the reality that love deepens through time, that the bond of motherhood is often not born in a moment, but unfolds like dawn after night.

Her insight calls to mind the story of Mary Wollstonecraft, the 18th-century writer and mother of Mary Shelley. Wollstonecraft, a revolutionary thinker, struggled with her own emotional wounds and uncertainty about her role as a mother. Yet, in her letters, she wrote of how the presence of her child transformed her understanding of self. She found in her daughter both a reflection and a redemption—a living proof that even broken souls can love wholly. Like O’Porter, Wollstonecraft discovered that motherhood does not demand perfection; it demands presence—the willingness to grow alongside the life one has brought into the world.

O’Porter’s phrase “unconditional friendship” is especially profound. It reframes motherhood not as authority, but as companionship—a partnership between souls bound by love, not control. It is friendship without judgment, rooted in mutual becoming. The mother learns as the child learns; she protects but is also transformed. This, perhaps, is the truest meaning of parental love—not the possession of another, but the surrender to connection. It teaches humility, forgiveness, and gratitude, for in raising a child, one is also raised into a deeper version of oneself.

There is also a quiet heroism in her words. To admit to an “odd relationship” with motherhood is to stand against the weight of expectation and speak truth to love’s complexity. It takes courage to reveal that even love—our most sacred bond—may begin in uncertainty and grow through imperfection. Yet this honesty is liberating, for it reminds us that there is no single path to tenderness. The mother who doubts, the parent who feels unprepared, the soul who fears they cannot love enough—all are still capable of discovering that love, when given the chance, blooms in its own season.

The lesson of O’Porter’s reflection is both tender and eternal: love is not defined by its beginning, but by its endurance. Whether in motherhood, friendship, or any human bond, it is not how easily love comes that matters, but how faithfully it grows. To love unconditionally is to open oneself to transformation—to let the heart expand beyond fear and find beauty in imperfection.

So let her words stand as a quiet teaching to all who seek connection: do not fear if love does not come easily; give it time, give it truth, and it will come. The bond between mother and child, between human and human, is a sacred garden that blooms not from certainty, but from care. And when it blooms—as Dawn O’Porter found—it teaches us the oldest and most radiant wisdom of all: that love, once awakened, is both a home and a horizon, infinite and ever-renewing.