Moonlit Literati

A friend of mine messaged me saying she misses me.

And my immediate response, in my head — was:

Yeah… I miss me too.

I gave birth to my daughter in November.

I thought I was ready for motherhood. People always told me, “You’re going to be a fantastic mom. You have so much love to give.”

And I believed them.

Until I delivered.

And I realized, maybe it is true…

I’m just not there yet.

Not only do the hormones take over… but within the first week, something felt off.

Not sad. Not exactly overwhelmed.

Just… unfamiliar.

I’ve never taken a break from work. I’ve always been busy.

There’s always something to do. Something to move forward.

That’s who I’ve always been.

And suddenly…

I was doing one thing. Maybe two.

Feeding. Changing diapers. Responding to a tiny human who needed me constantly.

And it felt… strange.

Not wrong. Just not me.

I didn’t recognize myself.

And that feeling didn’t go away. It built.

Day by day, I found myself asking: Who am I now?

It’s not that something is wrong.

It’s just that everything is different.

Am I just a mother?

I told myself I’ve done this before, we have a dog, I raised her from eight weeks old.

But this is different. Completely different.

Not being able to step out freely. Not being able to get fresh air when I needed it.

That alone started to affect me, mentally, emotionally.

At the same time… there was relief.

Relief that my baby was here. Safe. Healthy.

Relief that I was alive.

After everything my body had been through, a rough pregnancy, over 950 injections, that part was finally over.

And yet… something else had started.

I’ve gone through identity shifts before. But this one feels different.

This one is still happening.

Somewhere in me, I keep wanting to go back.

To an earlier version of myself.

A version I can almost see in front of me.

She was confident. Put together. Independent. Magnetic.

And now… I don’t fully recognize her in me anymore.

I think there comes a point in life where you realize you can’t go back.

Not to that version. No matter how much you miss her.

It feels like I’m losing a version of myself I knew so well…

while slowly becoming someone I’m still trying to understand.

And maybe that’s where I am right now.

The old me knew what she was doing.

She moved through life with a kind of fluidity, handling things, solving problems, pushing through obstacles like it was second nature.

But the new me… pauses. Steps back.

And maybe that’s not a weakness. Maybe it’s something else I’m still learning to understand.

Because like everything else, motherhood is a journey.

And it’s scary.

Scary because you don’t know if you’re doing it right.

You’re just doing it… and hoping it’s right.

You learn patience in ways you didn’t think you needed to.

You learn to tune things out, the noise, the distractions – or maybe just not let them affect you the same way anymore.

You learn how to wake up instantly, without thinking.

Like something in you has shifted.

And the truth is, I will go back to work.

But I won’t be the same person who left.

Not because I’ve lost something, but because I’ve lived through something that has changed me.

If anything, I don’t think my capabilities have diminished.

I’m stronger and I’m bringing back a different perspective. A different kind of awareness.

I know I’ll return to this,

with more pieces of this journey of self-discovery and motherhood, as it continues to unfold.

And for the ones who find themselves here after the world has quietened down…

maybe this feels familiar.