In my previous post, I discussed grief in motherhood from a clinical perspective. But I wanted to talk about something more personal to me: the grief I feel in motherhood because I miss the old me.
I knew life would change when I became a mother. I expected sleepless nights, busy days, and new routines. But what still catches me off guard is the quiet grief I feel for the version of myself I used to know.
Before motherhood, I had space. Space in my mind. Space in my day. Space in my body. I could finish thoughts, follow passions, sleep in on Saturdays, and walk out the door with nothing but my keys and phone. I could sit in silence without the next demand waiting in the wings. After a challenging day at work, I could just decompress in quiet and solitude. If you know me (or follow me on IG), you know I’m very much an introvert. I am easily drained by interaction, and I need time alone to replenish my energy.
I miss the old me. The one who wasn’t always “on.” The one who had hobbies instead of responsibilities. The one who didn’t feel guilt for wanting a break, or for being tired, or for not always loving every moment.
Motherhood is beautiful, yes. I would never trade my child for the world. But I also wouldn’t mind trading a few moments just to revisit the woman I was.
And maybe it’s taboo to say this, but I think more of us feel this way than we let on. We’re told to be grateful, and I am. But like I’ve always said: two things can be simultaneously true. Gratitude and grief can exist together. I can love my child and still miss the freedom I once had. I can be devoted and still long for pieces of the life I left behind.
Because I recognize this and am able to be transparent about it, my recharging time looks a bit different. I’m honest with my husband about what I need. He is very much an extrovert, but he understands what I need to not completely burn myself out. It was really difficult for me to admit that I struggle with being a mother at times, especially because I feel so grateful and blessed. I didn’t want to sound like a failure, and I have felt extreme guilt. But guilt in this situation only aids inertia. So being vulnerable and transparent made all the difference.
I’ve also started to re-introduce some of my previous hobbies, such as reading for pleasure and coloring. I also recently saw a post from a psychologist that I follow that gave me permission to grieve the life I once had and gave myself grace to recognize that this is just as important as caring for my son. We encounter a seismic shift in our identity when we become mothers. So, you know what? It’s perfectly okay to look back on the past while embracing the present and future.
