After my last baby, I felt lost. Like… really lost. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I wasn’t me—I was just going through the motions, doing what needed to be done, trying to survive as a mom of three.
“Do you even know who you are outside of your kids?”
That question kept echoing in my head. And the truth? I didn’t.
Most days I felt like I was just floating. Not sad. Not angry. Just… disconnected. And the scary part? I knew what that could turn into. I’d been through postpartum depression before, and I refused to go back there.
This time, I made a promise to myself: I wasn’t going to isolate. I wasn’t going to stay stuck.
And thank God, I had a support system that wouldn’t let me even if I tried (more on that in another post because whew—those people deserve a moment).
I thought I had to be Supermom. I wanted to do it all, be everything, never miss a beat.
But what I’m learning—still learning—is that being a good mom doesn’t mean doing it all. It means knowing when to say, “I need help.”
One day, out of nowhere, I started combing out my locs. Two years of growth, gone. I told myself it was a fresh start. But honestly? I was spiraling. I thought if I could just let go of that version of me, maybe I’d find the old one again.
But this season… this season is different. Having three kids is not the same as having two. My brain felt scattered, I was forgetting everything, constantly in motion, constantly drained.
And then it hit me:
I’m not meant to be who I was before.
My body’s different.
My mind’s different.
My whole life has shifted.
And that’s not a bad thing. I’m slowly figuring out who this new version of me is. Trying to give her grace.
Trying to become her.
Healing In Motherhood 