'She Didn’t Have Time To Be Scared.' What Does It Mean To Be a Mom?

by Alexandra Mansilla

'She Didn’t Have Time To Be Scared.' What Does It Mean To Be a Mom?

21 Mar 2025

On March 21st, the Arab world celebrates Mother’s Day, and today, we want to say thank you to all mothers — your work is invaluable. What you do is extraordinary: you bring a new life into the world and guide it forward. You teach your children to walk, to grow, to learn, to navigate life’s complexities. You shape their future, instilling knowledge, manners, and values — everything.

In doing all this, you might forget about yourself. Sometimes, there’s simply no time, no energy left. Your own “I want” takes a backseat because you’re busy fulfilling someone else’s. You don’t always have the answers, but you have to find them — because your children depend on you. You have to be strict, even when you want to be gentle. And despite the endless work each day, you still try to shine, to smile, and to give love — always.

Then there’s society. "Wait, so you just stay at home with the kids and don’t work?" "You’re out with friends? What about your children?" "You have a nanny? Wow." Or, on the flip side: "Why haven’t you hired a nanny?" "You talk about your kids too much." "You don’t talk about them enough." No matter what you do, there’s always judgment, always pressure. And it takes real strength — to tune it all out, to shield yourself from the noise, and to truly listen to yourself. To stay true to who you are.

Every mother has a story. Stories of struggle, resilience, and love. Today, we want to share two stories that have deeply moved us — stories of two Arab mothers whose strength left us in awe.

One raised six children alone after her husband left. The other, together with her husband, raised four while working tirelessly to make ends meet. Both families now live in the Netherlands, and both prove, in their own way, that motherhood is an act of quiet, relentless courage.

Their names have been changed at their request, as they wished to remain anonymous. But their stories deserve to be heard.

A big thanks to Siham Boukhari for helping find the heroes and bringing this piece together.

Fathima, 74, mother of six

“My Husband Just Disappeared”

She never expected to do it alone. In the beginning, they were a family — her, her husband, and their six children. Life wasn’t always easy, but they managed. Until one day, everything changed.

"When my youngest was eight years old, my husband left us just like that. He didn’t want a life with all the responsibilities. He just disappeared."

No warning. No discussion. Just gone.

"There I was — not speaking the language very well, and suddenly, I had to do everything on my own."

But she didn’t have time to be scared. Six children were looking up at her, waiting for dinner, waiting for school, waiting for a mother who had no choice but to keep going.

Two Jobs, No Sleep

The government helped a little, but not enough. So she worked — mornings, evenings, whatever it took.

"I cleaned offices in the mornings and evenings to provide for my children. That’s how we survived."

Her days blurred into a routine. Wake up, get the children ready for school, drop them off, and go to work. Come home at noon, clean the house, and start cooking. There was no time to rest — at 3 PM, the children were home again. Dinner, showers, homework.

At 6 PM, she left for her second job.

"I was really afraid of the dark back then, so I always took my youngest son with me. He was only 12, but I needed to feel safe. My two eldest daughters stayed home to look after the others."

She was exhausted, but there was no one to lean on. No days off. No weekends. Just an endless loop of responsibility.

Strict, Because There Was No Other Way

Did she regret anything? Did she wish she could have given her children more?

"I did everything I could to give them what they needed — not what they wanted. It was a lot, but I’m happy that all of my children got a good education. They all have great jobs now."

Her children, of course, thought she was too strict.

"And yes, I was. But I had no choice."

Her son Brahim would always ask her:

"Mom, why are you always like Hercules?"

She laughed, remembering. "That was because I would stand behind the door, just like him, if he came home late!"

Thirty Years Later

She never kept her children away from their father. Even after everything, she never told them they couldn’t see him.

"Now, 30 years later, my children pick up their father from his nursing home to have dinner with all of us."

No bitterness. No anger. Just a mother who never stopped being strong.

Hiba, 63, mother of four

Starting from Zero

When we got married, we had nothing — not even the support of our families. His parents didn’t want us to marry so young. We were both 21 years old, and they expected him to continue providing for them instead of starting a family of his own. When my husband decided to find an apartment for us, they were furious. They cut off contact.

So, we had to build everything from the ground up. There were no savings, no financial help — just us. The first two years were especially hard. We had only one child then, but there was no daycare available. My husband worked from 6 AM to 4 PM, and as soon as he came home, I left for my evening shift from 5 PM to 9 PM. We barely saw each other, except on weekends.

Education was free in the Netherlands until age 12, and for that, I was incredibly grateful. It was one less thing to worry about in a life filled with constant worry.

Balancing Work and Motherhood

When our daughters Siham (4 years old) and Dounia (1 year old) were little, I had to find a way to work while making sure they were cared for. Siham went to school, and Dounia stayed with a babysitter — who was also my friend. Of course, we had to pay for that too.

Every morning at 8 AM, I dropped them off. Every afternoon at 3 PM, I picked them up. Siham had to stay at school for lunch, which was another expense we had to factor in.

At the time, my husband worked as a chef, coming home at 7 PM. That meant the only real family time we had was on weekends.

No Regrets, Just Hard Work

I never regretted how we raised our children. My husband and I only had each other, and we worked so hard without any financial help.

If I could change one thing, I would have wanted more time with them. But back then, we didn’t have the luxury of time — we had to work. When my daughters were 11 and 8, we welcomed their baby brother, Oussama. And when my eldest turned 16, our youngest, Anouar, was born.

By then, my daughters were old enough to help. We were both working evening shifts as cleaners, and my daughters babysat three nights a week. It was just normal for families like ours back then. Still, I wished they had more freedom — more time for school, for themselves.

The Traditions That Held Us Together

Life was busy, but we always made time for certain things.

Saturdays were grocery days. That was our time together. Sundays were for baking. My husband always made fresh bread with our eldest daughter. She was 10 years old when they started, and she loved those moments with her dad.

Now, we have a new tradition. Once a year, the whole family travels to Morocco, to our second home by the beach. My daughters, their husbands, my sons and his wife, and my five beautiful grandchildren — we are all together.

We built that beach house from nothing, just like we built our life. It took us seven years to complete, but now, everyone has their own family room.

That was why we worked so hard. We didn’t want our children to struggle the way we did. And now, looking at them, we know we did something right. Because the love we have as a family is something money can’t buy.

We want to speak to all the mothers out there:

Despite it all, you give your children everything — even when you have nothing.

You are superheroes, every single one of you. You do more than seems humanly possible (even on the days when it feels like you’re not doing enough). The strength and energy you carry — if only the world had more of it. And the truth is, you often don’t even realise just how much you accomplish.

by Alexandra Mansilla