Motherhood Series with Kaya Doherty
IN HER WORDS
featuring
Kaya Doherty
Hong Kong • Mother of Dela (4)
I met Kaya long before motherhood was even a thought, she was our wedding planner at a winery in the Margaret River region, and from the very first conversation I trusted her completely. There was a calm, capable warmth about her that put everyone at ease on what is, for most of us, one of the biggest days of our lives. Years later, Kaya now lives in Hong Kong, where she's a primary school teacher and mum to four-year-old Dela. One of the great gifts of Instagram is being able to watch the lives of people unfold from afar, and I've loved seeing the beautiful life she's built across the world.
This conversation is honest, tender, and was so deeply relatable. She speaks openly about the fear that filled her early days, the love that didn't arrive on cue, the weight of returning to work just four months postpartum, and the quiet rituals that now bring her back to herself at the end of every day. I'm so grateful she shared her story so vulnerably with us.
Here are Kaya's words
When you think back to the moment you became a mother, what do you remember most clearly?
I remember fear taking up so much space in me. Fear that I would do something wrong. Fear that I couldn't be what she needed. I remember Dela's soft, new skin pressed against my face as I lay on the operating table, tears streaming down my cheeks.
I was deeply excited to meet her, my whole heart felt like it was reaching, but in that moment, I couldn't find what everyone had described. I kept asking myself, "Where is the love?" Why didn't I feel the certainty people had promised? Where was this supposed "love bubble" I thought would automatically surround me? And what would happen to her if I couldn't provide it, if I didn't feel like I had it? I thought the wisdom of motherhood would arrive fully formed, like something that would simply flood in and tell me exactly what to do. It didn't.
I didn't instantly feel the connection society told me was inevitable. Instead, I felt scared and confused. What was wrong with me? Was it something I had done? I loved her completely, but it didn't feel the way I'd expected. I remember the moment right after the nurse took her away from me, my hospital bed wheels thrashed down the corridor as they brought me back to my room, and my mind spiralled: "I already can't give her what she needs. I'm not good enough. I can't do this."
Even now, I don't think the fear has entirely left. Over time, though, I've learned to carry it differently. The guilt of not having that immediate connection and "love bubble", however, still remains with me.
What surprised you about motherhood that no one really prepared you for?
The sheer weight of the mental load, the constant, relentless thinking that never truly switches off. And alongside that, I was surprised by society's lack of empathy and support for new mothers. I returned to my full-time job only four months after giving birth to Dela. In Hong Kong, you're entitled to 14 weeks of maternity leave. I was in the depths of postpartum depression, yet on the outside, nobody knew. I didn't feel like anyone was speaking openly about the reality of what new mothers go through, especially when they're pushed back into work so quickly.
Then there was the guilt of being away from your baby, so early on. (I still feel it now, at any age, honestly.) And guilt doesn't just come from the absence, it can also come from joy. I felt guilty for enjoying space and time to work on my career. I felt like an imposter. How could I feel guilty for not being with my baby all day, every day, while also feeling guilty for wanting even a breath of space?
In what ways have you grown or changed since becoming a mother?
I've come to understand the gift of every single day with someone I love. Before becoming a mother, I didn't feel worthy of success, whether that meant success in my career, as a parent, or in my relationships. I carried the belief that I needed someone to complete me: a partner, a person, an answer that would finally make everything click into place.
I thought happiness depended on ticking all the boxes and doing everything "right." Now, I choose to receive each day as a blessing. I still fiercely cherish every moment with Dela and my loved ones, even as mum guilt and worry linger on my shoulders like small, persistent shadows.
Yet I've also learned what real love feels like. I believed I understood love before, but my heart has grown, expanded, softened, and somehow endured, and in that evolution, I've discovered something deeper. Becoming a mother has changed the way I love.
What is a small, ordinary moment with your child that feels deeply meaningful to you?
Waking up every morning next to her. A safe roof over our heads. A cosy blanket wrapped around us. Clean clothes on our backs. I wake with intense gratitude for these simple things, because I know so many people will never experience even basic safety, let alone the comfort that comes with it.
What does love look like when you're exhausted?
For me, it looks like coming home from a long day of school as a primary school teacher, trying my best to co-regulate, inspire and support my 30 students, and then taking off my teacher hat and putting on my mum hat for Dela's bedtime routine. Some evenings, it nearly breaks me. I can be overstimulated, depleted, and running on very little. It can be really hard to make sure I'm regulated enough to then also co-regulate with Dela and provide her the emotional support and safe space she needs after a long day of her own.
When I lie next to Dela as she settles into sleep, and she grabs my neck, pulling my face closer to hers, I exhale my entire day. I stop carrying everything alone. I breathe in her energy, her presence, and somehow, in that moment, I feel replenished.
Is there a daily ritual that grounds you in this season of motherhood?
Taking a shower straight after work. Getting into my pyjamas. Then stepping into her bedtime routine. It reminds me that I've washed off my work day, that I can show up "clean," ready to be fully present for her. Not only physically clean, but clean of whatever stress may have followed me: negative energies, tension I carried, bad juju, anything that might cling to me from the outside world. I want to arrive properly for her. I want to be available and open for her.
What do you feel most proud of in your motherhood journey so far?
I'm proud of how I've navigated and withstood recent personal relationship challenges. Changing the dynamic of my family and choosing to "disrupt" what we once called our normal was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
I'm proud of what I've endured for Dela, and of what I've chosen to protect in both our hearts, especially by making decisions that, at times, felt difficult, but ultimately felt true. I had to let go of relationships that no longer served us, including friendships that shifted with the changing circumstances. And while I understand not everyone will see my choices the way I do, I refuse to carry shame for choosing what I believe is right. Reaching this point, and having the courage to begin, has been a profound milestone, one I'm not sure I would have been brave enough to face without my mother's instincts guiding me. In hindsight, it has made me a stronger and more resilient mother. It has shown me who truly shows up, who remains steady with love and honesty, and for that, I feel deeply grateful.
Most of all, navigating such turmoil has shown me: I am unique. I am capable. I am exactly the mother my daughter needs.
What kind of legacy, emotional or otherwise, do you hope to pass on?
I hope my beautiful Dela will always stay true to her own heart, follow her curiosity, and have the courage to chase her dreams, whilst keeping kindness at the forefront of her decisions. Kindness to herself, kindness to others, and kindness to animals and our environment.
If you could speak to yourself at the beginning of motherhood, what would you say?
I would tell myself to trust my gut. Trust that quiet, instinctive, niggling feeling, almost like a tiny warning bell in your body, trust it and follow it. My body knows what's best for me, so I would remind myself to listen. I would tell myself that no two spirits are the same, just because someone else's baby is sleeping through the night at two months old does not mean ANYTHING is wrong with my baby. It's okay.
I would encourage myself to stop comparing my journey to others (very hard, I know). I feel heartbroken that I spent so much time when Dela was a newborn comparing her to other "less fussy" babies. Now I would give anything to go back to those moments and just hold her and be with her fully, without measuring against society or anyone else. I would also tell myself to lean on loved ones. We all need help sometimes. You'll know who you can trust to reach out to. So reach out, they've got you.
Thank you, Kaya, for offering us such an honest window into your motherhood. Your willingness to name the fear, the guilt, the love that didn't arrive the way you'd been promised, and the quiet courage it has taken to grow around all of it, is something so many mothers will recognise in themselves, I know I certainly did. May Dela always know just how fiercely and tenderly she is loved, and may every mother reading this feel a little less alone today.
Love and Kindness,
Kirst x x x
KAYA'S PICKS:
Written by Kirsten Herbert
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