What Happened?

Every day I miss my pens, my notebooks, my words. I wish I could let the creativity flow from me the way that it used to, but now I sit stagnant and tell myself the things that I write aren’t good enough. How did this happen to me?

When I became a mother with my first son, I felt elated and fueled by my love for him to conquer the world. I had never thought life was so beautiful as I did when he was born. In the months that followed, I struggled with postpartum anxiety and depression. I missed my old self, my old body, my old life. On an upswing from these feelings, my husband and I began to prepare for the birth of our second son. And now here I am again, three months postpartum with baby number two and stuck in the same whirlwind of confusion, emotional exhaustion, and mental turmoil of day-to-day actions. There’s a certain loneliness that comes with becoming a mom, and I am far from perfect in this transition from young adult to full-time mom.

To be honest, I don’t know what to write about, I just know that I want to write. I want to speak to the other lonely moms who are struggling with missing their old selves. To bring comfort to other moms I want to say this: there is nothing wrong with missing your old life. I often miss the passions I had from writing, reading, sailing, and exploring the outdoors; now I have trouble convincing myself to leave the house for the day. I often miss my old body and how much I weighed; now I struggle with appreciating the many things my body has gone through in two years and criticizing myself for not being a size 6 yet. I often miss my old relationship with my husband; our relationship now is beautiful and different, but what happened to the old us? Are we still in there somewhere?

Motherhood is rough. It is trying and tiring. I fall asleep at night whispering to myself, “You are enough, you are enough, you are enough.” And guess what, I sure as hell am.