Hi mama,
There’s this unspoken shift that happens after you have a baby. At first, you're so deep in the fog — learning to feed, to hold, to soothe — that you don't have time to miss anything. Every second is about survival, love, exhaustion, and figuring it all out. But eventually, the fog begins to lift. For me, it happened when the vomiting storm settled, when I was finally able to care for Ollie on my own while my husband was at work. That’s when it hit me.
I looked around and realised I was late on my shows. I hadn’t done any online shopping for months (which, if you know me, is huge). None of my clothes fit anymore — pre-pregnancy ones were too tight, maternity ones too loose. My nails were a mess. My hair was greying faster than I could keep up with. I didn’t recognise myself in the mirror. I wasn’t sure who I was anymore… other than Ollie’s mum.
And then, I cried.
When my husband came home that day, he found me in tears. He asked what was wrong. I couldn’t even explain it — I just whispered: "I don’t know. I’m just tired." And he, being the wonderful support he is, gently suggested something so simple: “Why don’t you go back to the gym? I’ll stay with Ollie after work. You just go, leave the house, have some time for yourself.”
It felt strange to consider it — time for myself? Alone?
But we made a plan. A few days later, I got dressed (not in mum clothes), got in the car, and drove to the gym with my own playlist blasting — BTS, Stray Kids, my little moment of freedom.
And I cried again.
I was alone. I was “free.” And yet I felt like something was missing. A piece of me had stayed home. Because it had. For months, my baby hadn’t left my arms. And now, there I was… a bit lighter, but also a bit hollow. I felt guilty for enjoying the solitude. Guilty for wanting my old life back — or at least, parts of it. Guilty for remembering the “me” I used to be, without him.
But the truth is: that doesn’t make me less of a mum. It makes me human.
Motherhood changes everything — it adds, transforms, stretches you in every direction. But it’s okay to mourn the pieces you had to let go of. It’s okay to feel the grief of your old self while loving your new one. I’m still learning that. Slowly.
So to every mama who misses her old life, even just a little — I see you. And you’re allowed to feel that way. It doesn’t mean you love your baby any less. It just means you’re finding your way back to you, with a new heart, a new rhythm, and the same love — just deeper now.
From one mum to another,
Renata (Ollie’s mum) 💛