Being a mother of four — three beautiful daughters and one strong son — has taught me more about love, pain, and perseverance than anything else in this world.
Each of my children carries a piece of me. My son, my firstborn, stands tall with quiet strength and a protective heart. My daughters — each unique, each a light in their own way — remind me of the parts of myself I thought I had lost: my softness, my fire, my innocence, my courage.
Right now, my three daughters are in the care of their paternal family. That’s not where they belong — not forever. I miss them every day. I ache to be part of their daily lives again: to watch them grow, laugh, cry, and be surrounded by their mother’s love.
But the truth is, I haven’t always had the easiest road. I’ve faced challenges that nearly broke me. I’ve made mistakes, but I’ve also been wrongly accused. Today, I’m preparing for criminal court in July — for something I didn’t do. The truth is, I was the one assaulted last year. Yet here I am, the one facing charges. The system doesn’t always get it right. But I am standing in my truth.
Still, I haven’t let that stop me.
I attend weekly AOD (alcohol and drug) counselling.I work with a trauma therapist every week to heal the wounds that can’t be seen.I receive support from Mokopuna Ora, who stand strong beside me — checking in, holding agencies accountable, and walking this journey with me.
And most importantly, I’ve chosen to enter residential rehabilitation — as soon as a bed becomes available. This was my choice. I want to grow. I want to heal. I want my children to know I did everything I could to bring our family back together, the right way.
While I’m in rehab, I’ve applied to the Family Court to discharge the interim parenting and guardianship orders from the current carer and reapply for those orders — with a clear, safe plan in place. My mum, their nana, will care for my daughters while I’m away. She has been my rock, and she is someone my children know and love. This is a whānau decision, made with love and purpose.
The way forward isn’t easy. But it’s worth it.
I want people to know that behind every Family Court case, behind every accusation, is a real mother. A mother who wakes in the night worrying. A mother who cries for her babies. A mother who fights through shame, grief, and judgment — just to be heard.
I’m walking forward now — not looking back, except to remember how far I’ve come. I’m choosing love, responsibility, and strength. I’m choosing to be the mother I know I am.
To my children:
I love you more than anything.
Every day, I’m working to bring us home again.
I can’t wait to hold you in my arms again, my beautiful girls — my gems.
You are the reason I rise, the reason I fight, and the reason I believe in tomorrow.
This is the way forward.
And I’m ready.
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