Valentine’s Day used to feel simple.
Cards. Flowers. Messages. The visible exchange of affection.
But over time and especially through motherhood, my understanding of love changed completely.
Love, I’ve learned, is not something you wait to receive.
It’s something you choose to give.
Over and over again.
Being a mum reshaped me.
Being an autism mum refined me.
When your child is autistic, love stops being decorative. It becomes deliberate.
It looks like explaining the same thing five different ways, calmly.
It looks like noticing when the room is too loud before anyone else does.
It looks like advocating when systems fail quietly and no one else is paying attention.
It looks like redesigning routines so your child can breathe.
Love becomes structure.
Love becomes patience.
Love becomes endurance.
And slowly, you realise: love is not softness. It is discipline.
As an educationist, I’ve watched children labelled instead of understood.
As a tech leader, I’ve seen organisations confuse complexity with intelligence.
As a charity founder, I’ve sat with families who are exhausted not by their children — but by broken systems.
And in all of it, the thread is the same:
When systems are unclear, people suffer.
When communication is poor, families carry the weight.
When structure is missing, confusion fills the space.
Love, in those moments, is not emotional. It is architectural.
It is choosing to build better.
It is choosing to clarify.
It is choosing to advocate even when you are tired.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped measuring love by what came back to me.
Because the act of giving it — intentionally, consistently — became enough.
If I help a leader understand complexity more clearly, that is love.
If I help a parent feel less alone, that is love.
If I build systems that reduce confusion, that is love too.
And maybe that’s what Valentine’s Day means to me now.
Not romance.
Not applause.
But the quiet, steady commitment to give — without condition.
If love is what we practice consistently, then perhaps I have become a reflection of it.
Not because I say it.
But because I build it
About the Author
Folu is a mother, autism advocate, educationist, and tech leader committed to building clearer, more inclusive systems. Through her work in leadership and charity, she helps organisations reduce noise, design with intention, and place people at the centre of complexity.
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