Motherhood: Reclaiming the “My” in Mommy
My time. My space. My peace. My dreams. My desires. My health. Myself.
Sigh… Where do I start?
And that was the very first thought that came to mind.
I’ll start by saying this: Motherhood has been the most challenging yet rewarding experience that life has ever given me. Although I was already an adult when I became a mother, the experience humbled me and forced me to grow up all over again. There have been countless moments of self-reflection when I thought I knew the woman in the mirror, only to discover unfamiliar parts of myself, sit alone with emotions I never knew I could feel, and confront vulnerabilities that had remained dormant until awakened… by motherhood.
The Version of Me No One Sees
Now more than ever, motherhood can feel like a lonely journey. I don’t believe it was ever meant to be this way, but the societal expectations surrounding motherhood have, in many ways, contributed to this reality. Still, that’s a conversation for another day.
Whether I’m mingling with people at church, visiting a friend, or exchanging pleasantries with a stranger at the store, I often wonder if anyone sees the person behind the mask. They see the mother, but do they see me—the woman carrying the unspoken weight of motherhood? When I feel unseen, I wonder whether it stems from my own reluctance to be vulnerable or from society’s expectation that mothers embody an almost unrealistic standard of selflessness, patience, and fulfillment. Perhaps it’s a little of both. Either way, it’s possible to be surrounded by people and still feel alone.
Even in a two-parent household, caring for children can still feel like a heavy burden. Some days, exhaustion, overstimulation, aching feet, and a sore back are my most frequent companions. And yet, after the demands of the day have quieted, there’s something about the stillness of the night that feels like a breath of fresh air. Somehow, the very silence that reminds me of motherhood’s loneliness also becomes the very space where I can finally exhale, gather myself, and do it all over again.
The Guilt of Wanting More
This topic was actually sparked by a decision I’ve been wrestling with: whether to continue breastfeeding. For me, breastfeeding is one of the most intimate forms of bonding I enjoy as a mother. Unfortunately, I was only able to breastfeed my firstborn for three months. That wasn’t what I wanted, but life simply unfolded that way. So, when I had my second child, I knew I wanted to commit to breastfeeding for at least one year. However, now that my baby is six months old, I’ve recently decided that it’s time to wean from breastfeeding and pumping.
Though breastfeeding is a simple joy that fills my heart, it also comes at a cost: my time and energy. Don’t get me wrong—my baby will always be worth it. But somewhere along the way, I began to realize that I was sacrificing too much of myself in the process. Trying to maintain an adequate milk supply for both breastfeeding and pumping began to put pressure on various aspects of my life. I found myself questioning how much more I could give before I began running on empty.
And yet, realizing that something was costing me too much didn’t automatically make it easier to let go. I had entered this season of motherhood with the intention of breastfeeding for at least a year, so deciding to stop at six months wasn’t easy. As mothers, we can recognize that a decision may be necessary for our well-being and still feel guilty for making it. I knew why I wanted to wean, but that didn’t stop me from questioning whether I was making the right decision. Does deciding to stop make me a selfish mom? Am I putting my needs before my baby’s? Why does choosing to do something for myself feel like I’m taking something away from my child?
This is where the guilt crept in. The constant back-and-forth of Should I or should I not? can be exhausting in itself. But I’m learning that caring for myself doesn’t mean I’m caring for my children any less. At the end of the day, I can’t pour from an empty cup. My children need peace, joy, love, and a safe space—but I need those things, too, to give them wholeheartedly.
Creating a Life That Includes Me
As a mother, it’s almost as if our minds are wired to put our children’s needs and attention before our own, all the time. Unfortunately, that just isn’t healthy! Not only will you be the one to bear the weight of that sacrifice, but eventually, your children will feel it too. How? Well, as previously mentioned, I can’t pour into my children from an empty cup. And God forbid my children have an emotionally and physically drained mother who is supposed to be “caring” for them.
Creating a life should not only include me, but it should start with me. For me, that means establishing daily non-negotiables and must-haves for every. single. day. It also means ensuring that every item on that list is realistic and attainable based on my lifestyle and living situation. Most importantly, it means being willing to prioritize the peace of both my mind and body and being fully convinced that I deserve it!
When I initially decided to wean from breastfeeding and pumping, I couldn’t help but have that lingering question hanging over my head: Did I make the right choice? Yet, much to my own surprise, creating space for myself by weaning has felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders. This one seemingly small shift has had such a profound impact on my mental and physical well-being.
Suddenly, I find myself with more time and space to engage in activities and hobbies that chisel away at the unnecessary clay, piece by piece, slowly yet surely revealing the true figure that is me.
What If My Children Saw Me Choosing Myself?
“Do as I say, not as I do” is an easy cop-out for a leader who lacks accountability. And when it comes to children, they’re more likely to be a mirror reflection of what their parents do and not always what they say. My two-year-old is no different, constantly reminding me to be mindful of my own actions.
Therefore, prioritizing myself by cultivating my dreams and nurturing my health, with intention, every single day is the kind of self-love I want my children to normalize. Seeing mommy bend over backward for everyone but herself, leaving her completely haggard and an unapproachable mess, is not what I want my children to witness, internalize, or eventually pass down as a generational curse.
I choose myself not only for me, but for them, too. They deserve to see mommy happy. They deserve to see her healthy. They deserve to see her pursuing her wildest dreams!
Whether intentionally or unintentionally, society normalizes the idea that mothers must sacrifice parts of themselves for their children to thrive. However, this mindset is counterproductive. What good are a child’s achievements or fulfilled dreams as a result of their mother’s sacrifices if, years later, they find themselves repeating the same pattern—losing themselves in the process of raising their own children? What does it mean to prepare our children to thrive in life if we fail to show them how to do so without abandoning themselves along the way?
It is my desire for my daughters to witness what a healthy relationship with oneself looks like. And if they can’t find a good example in society, they’ll most certainly find one at home.
What Reclaiming Mommy Looks Like In this Season of My Life
At the end of the day, I’m somebody’s mommy, and that’s the greatest gift I could ever flex. At the same time, I also belong to myself. And both can be true and honored at the same time.
This season requires me to let go of conditioned beliefs and recondition my mind as I allow myself to grow up all over again, but this time with a new, healthy perspective that allows the divinity within me to glow.
There’s an African proverb that says, “As above, so below; as within, so without.” Just as the sun above radiates its light upon the world below, we, too, are meant to reflect that same radiance by allowing our own inner light to shine.
And this is my time to shine.
“Ubuntu: I am because we are. We are because I am.”
