As moms of babies, we hear it all the time: “You’ll have the rest of your life to get back in shape, Mama—just enjoy those newborn snuggles!” or “It goes so fast, soak it all in!”
And while those words are often true—and I’ve even said them myself—I also want to say this, just as clearly:
You matter too, moms.
For nine long (and short) months, you carried an enormous blessing. You housed and grew an entire life. You gave up sleep, familiar clothes, physical comfort, and the simple ease of everyday routines. You sacrificed activities you once loved, quiet date nights, spontaneous plans, and even the comfort of standing on your own swollen feet. Every part of your body and your schedule shifted to make room for someone else.
Pregnancy changed literally every part of you. And no matter how loving or supportive your partner may be, it’s a journey you ultimately walk through on your own. It’s not always easy. It’s not easy to look in the mirror and not recognize yourself—physically, emotionally, or mentally—and to feel like pieces of who you were have quietly disappeared.
Then, almost overnight, everything about your life changes again with your baby’s birth.
Suddenly, the simplest things are no longer guaranteed. Whether you’ll brush your teeth before the baby wakes up, whether you’ll get dressed, step outside for fresh air, or attempt a household chore—none of it is certain anymore. You may even wonder if you’ll put on real clothes that day. These things might seem small or silly, but when you don’t have a single predictable moment to anchor your day, when your life feels unfamiliar, it can feel incredibly overwhelming and defeating.
Right now, I’ve lost my ability to work, my ability to exercise, and even my ability to drink coffee. I’ve lost the routines and freedoms that once made me feel like me.
And I don’t say this to complain, seek pity, or suggest that motherhood is something awful. I say it because it’s true. This is my life right now, even though I know it won’t always be this way. I say it because it’s okay to believe that your needs matter too—even with a newborn, even knowing how fast this stage passes. Wanting a shower without a crying baby, or a meal you can eat with both arms, doesn’t make you a bad mom, a selfish person, or an ungrateful woman.
I say these things because losing yourself in motherhood is hard. And hard doesn’t mean wrong, broken, or permanent.
It can be hard right now—and that can be okay.
Because I believe that when we share the hard parts honestly, we help each other find our way back to the good parts too.
