Between Cultures, Between Dreams: A Letter from an Immigrant Mama
There’s a moment I think many of us immigrant moms face — a quiet pause where we look around and wonder: How did I get here? Am I doing enough? Is this the life I dreamed of… or a life I’m still figuring out how to hold?
I’ve had that moment countless times. In the middle of breastfeeding while answering emails. On a train in the Loop, translating “tengo hambre” to “I’m hungry” for my toddler. At night, whispering affirmations to myself because I didn’t show up to that IEP meeting with the energy I wanted to. Or worse, I missed it altogether.
The Duality of Being Here
Being an immigrant in the U.S. is full of contradictions.
I’m so grateful to be able to raise my kids in two languages — to sing Las Mañanitas at bedtime and read Brown Bearin English. I’m filled with joy that we can eat tamales, pan dulce, and tacos de barbacoa at a moment’s notice thanks to Chicago’s rich, diverse food culture. This city is a gift — from the languages on public signs to the support of our bilingual communities, we are surrounded by reminders of home.
But still, there’s isolation.
Still, there’s the cultural shock that doesn’t always fade — especially in parenting spaces where I don’t always feel fully seen.
Still, there’s the ache of trying to juggle it all — the mind that wants to do and create, the soul that yearns to make a difference, and the hands that are always full — of dishes, diapers, deadlines.
Motherhood, Guilt, and the Lie of “Balance”
Motherhood comes with guilt, but immigrant motherhood adds another layer.
I often ask myself:
Am I doing enough for my children?
Am I doing enough with the freedom I now have?
Am I wasting the sacrifices my ancestors made by not becoming the professional I thought I’d be?
The truth is, I gave up the version of “success” I once held tightly — the linear career path, the accolades — to choose this.
To choose presence over perfection.
To choose a family-centered life over the hustle.
And that choice? It hurts and heals all at once.
Because I know I’m privileged to make it.
I live in a house where my husband supports my wildest ideas. His job gives us the stability to dream out loud. His family holds our babies when I need to lead a class or meet a collaborator. They insist we take time for ourselves. And that — that kind of support — is rare and sacred.
And it gives me a responsibility: to not keep this life to myself.
A Duty to Build a Space for All of Us
Sol Space is my response to all of this.
It’s what happens when a bilingual, bicultural, sometimes-scattered, deeply-hopeful mom says:
I want more for all of us.
More spaces where mamas can bring their kids and still follow their dreams.
More healing. More movement. More community.
More reminders that you don’t have to choose between your family and yourself.
I couldn’t have done this alone.
Thank you to Georgena, for trusting my vision, believing in me, and saying “yes” to creating something bigger than us — something that might just transcend us.
Thank you to the friends who show up, who check in, who help hold the weight of this dream.
Thank you to my husband and his family — for holding our babies, holding my heart, and holding space for this version of me to emerge.
Thank you to every mom who has told me, “I feel that too.”
Thank you to every immigrant who made it here, even when it felt impossible.
This is just the beginning.
Want to be part of this journey?
Sol Space is now open in Jefferson Park.
✨ Yoga, fitness, coworking with childcare, and community events
💛 Book your first free class with code HELLOSOL
📸 Follow us on Instagram @solspacechi
Let’s raise our babies, our voices, and our communities — together.
With love,
Jackie Bravo Vicere
