When I had my baby, I expected some changes: less sleep, more diapers, and a deeper appreciation for Bluey. I figured I would lose quite a bit of time for myself but I knew it would be worth it somehow. What I didn’t expect was how deeply I’d feel the loss of me.

It’s not just about parting ways with the old routines or hobbies, but also with my sense of identity. I had a strong sense of my self who had plans, passions, and opinions about current events and lipstick shades. That version of me seemed to vanish the minute I held my baby in my arms and looked into her big shiny eyes glaring right at me.

At first, I grieved “her”, the woman I always knew I was. I felt like I was supposed to instinctively know how to merge “mom” with that identity. But the truth is, I didn’t. And that’s okay. Because what I eventually learned is that losing yourself in motherhood isn’t the end of you, it’s the beginning of something new.

Here’s what I’ve discovered along the way:

Once upon a time, I thrived in bodycon dresses and platform heels. Now I’ve settled into my wide leg pants and slip on sneakers with arch support era. 

And at first, I felt frumpy and invisible. I lost time and energy to try on clothes and shop for hours to find the “perfect” outfit for my next event. But slowly, I started to notice something new: comfort gave me confidence and function gave me freedom. I wasn’t dressing to be admired or validated by others. I was dressing to be me at this stage of my life. I dress to play, to chase after an active toddler while carrying a diaper bag, and to smile as that toddler wipes pasta sauce on my clothes. It was a powerful realization when it hit me that I didn’t lose my sense of style, it just evolved to fit who I was becoming.

I used to have a calendar stocked with work projects, social events, and recreational activities. These days, you can find me holding snacks during odd hours at the playground or listening in on an online work seminar while supervising at a birthday party.

At first, the unpredictability and loss of control drove me a little nuts. But then I realized that life had slowed down in the most unexpected way. There’s something deeply meaningful about sitting on the floor and watching your child smash a Lego tower or (impatiently) teach her dolls the alphabet. It’s not “productive” by society’s standards, but it is the only childhood my daughter will have and it is such a gift to be here to laugh and share these moments with her.

Taking time off from a career I’d spent years building was humbling. I doubted myself. There are still days when I worry that I am so far behind now. But what I’ve come to understand is that growth doesn’t stop just because your work title does.

Raising a tiny human is work. And while it may not be paid work, it is valuable. My life might not be following the career trajectory that I had mapped out for myself, but I know that I’m gaining skills, resilience, and depth that no resume can fully describe. My LinkedIn profile might be woefully bland at the moment but my life is well-compensated with growth and love.

I’ve always been fiercely self-reliant. I take pride in handling things by myself. But motherhood isn’t a role well suited for lone wolves. Somewhere between the sleeplessness and mental health struggles, I learned how to ask for help and how to accept it.

Whether it was a relative sending frozen breast milk, a friend dropping off soup to encourage lactation, my husband keeping our baby occupied so I could take a shower, or a group chat with friends who send the funniest memes, I found a quiet kind of strength in community. I wasn’t meant to do this alone. None of us are. One of the bravest things you can do in this life is to admit that you can’t do it all alone, and to grab hold of the hands that reach out to help you.

There are still days I don’t recognize myself in the mirror. Sometimes I can’t even recall my date of birth but I can sing “Let It Go” while half asleep. My body feels different. My priorities have shifted. My patience has been tested in very new and literally very colorful ways.

But in the middle of all of this, I’ve found a version of myself I never knew existed. She’s softer in some ways, stronger in others. She cries a lot more than she used to, but she laughs more freely too. She cares less about the opinion of others while prioritizing what’s best for her family. She doesn’t have it all figured out, but she knows what matters most. 

She’s me. Still me, just armed with additional skills and features like cleaning marker stains from different surfaces and coming up with an endless supply of silly nicknames.

To the fellow mom who’s feeling a little lost, you’re not alone. This identity shift is real and your feelings are valid. You don’t have to rush to recover your “old self,” because maybe, just maybe, that version of you was always meant to evolve.

Motherhood doesn’t erase who we are. It expands us. It softens our edges and deepens our roots. We cry on the floor. We say we give up. But then we pick it all up and do it all over again, day after day. We learn that we are capable of more strength and vulnerability that we could have ever imagined.

You haven’t disappeared. You’re still here. And you are more incredible than ever.