I Lost Myself Somewhere In These Motherhood Years

I saw a photo taken over a decade ago of me with perfectly highlighted hair, a face full of makeup, and trendy clothes. I was all smiles and carefree. I was probably out with a large circle of friends, making memories way too late. It was the before-mother me.

That’s not me anymore. But I see me there.

Then there was a photo of the newborn foggy days, when the bags under my eyes came and have never left. My hair was piled high in a mess, and my roots were growing out. I was smiling, but I was so scared. Could I actually do this motherhood thing?

That’s not me anymore. But I see me there.

Then I saw a photo on the beach in the chapter where I started finding my stride, rocking life as wife, toddler mom, friend and employee and all the ways I needed to. It was stressful and joyful. My hair is undyed because I didn’t have time for that, but my eyes are bright and my smile is genuine.

That’s not me anymore. But I see me there.

Something happened between the toddler stage and the hustle and bustle of school and all the activities. But it’s hard to find a photo of me lately. After all, what’s there to capture in between the dishes and the hampers and the chauffeuring to practices? My hair is a mess because why do it? Who’s going to see me anyway?

There aren’t very many photos, but every day there’s a mirror reflecting a woman I don’t recognize. Her eyes are sad, and her expression is vacant. What’s terrifying is I see her every day, but I don’t see me there.

I lost myself somewhere between the delivery room and today. Who am I underneath these newfound wrinkles? What do I need? I need more than a break. I need more than a good night’s sleep.

Sure, I need a break on the surface (like so many moms), but beneath that there is a cry for rebirth. I feel like long days of mothering has slowly eroded anything of the me outside that identity. Cook. Clean. Grocery store. Laundry. School. Repeat. Where am I in that routine? Who am I now? What do I want? What do I need?

Some people will tell you that it’s selfish to want for yourself, to take time away, and to do things that put you the mother first. But you can’t love your kids well if you haven’t loved yourself first. If you do, the risk is going through the motions and staying in survival mode instead of thriving and being truly present. When your cup has been replenished, you can fill the little cups around you abundantly. As a mother, I want my joy to be a flood, not just a trickle.

I don’t have the answers yet. But neglecting myself has not been the right choice for me or my children. Now, I am determined not to let more years pass when there are hardly any photos, and I have days of a “what’s the point?” attitude. Because the point is to be the best mom I can be. And the question I’m asking the mirror in the mornings until I see the woman I should see is what can I do for me so I can be the best for them?