Secretly Mourning My Old Life

The Hidden Grief of First-Time Motherhood

When you become a mother, everyone tells you how your world is about to change. They prepare you for the sleepless nights, the feedings, the diaper changes. They tell you how full your heart will feel when you see your baby's face. And they're not wrong—it is miraculous. It does stretch your love in directions you never imagined possible.

But there's another change that no one really talks about, one that feels quieter, heavier, and much more confusing: You start to miss yourself. Not in a fleeting, surface-level way—but in a deep, aching kind of way. The kind of missing that shows up in the mirror when you barely recognize your reflection. The kind that surfaces when you hear a song that used to make you dance in your kitchen but now just reminds you of who you were before your world split wide open.

And the hardest part? It's often a grief that no one sees, because it's hidden beneath layers of love.

The Unnamed Grief So Many Moms Carry

If you've felt this—this quiet mourning for the woman you used to be—you're not broken. You're not ungrateful. You're not failing at motherhood. You're simply grieving a version of yourself who mattered deeply.

The late-night drives with music blasting, the career wins that made you feel alive, the spontaneous girls' trips, the freedom to just be without being needed by someone every waking moment—these aren't shallow losses. They're chapters of your identity. And when motherhood arrives, it doesn't just add a new role—it often swallows the old ones, at least for a time.

That can feel disorienting, especially when no one around you seems to name it.

Online threads and mom groups whisper truths we don't always say out loud. Truths like:

• "I love my baby, but I miss the version of me that had hobbies."
• "I cry in the shower because I don't feel like myself anymore."
• "I feel guilty for wishing I had my old life back, even just for a day."

This is identity loss—and it's so much more common than we think.

Why It Feels So Lonely (Even When You're Surrounded by Love)

One of the hardest things about this experience is how isolating it can be. From the outside, you might seem like you're "doing great"—feeding the baby, smiling for pictures, staying on top of the never-ending mental load. But inside, there's often a quiet narrative playing out: I should be happier. Why do I feel so lost?

The silence around these feelings makes you think you're the only one feeling them. But you're not. Not even close.

In truth, many first-time moms feel this way—especially within the first year. It's a time of emotional whiplash. One minute you're soaking in your baby's coos, and the next, you're wondering if you'll ever have a moment to yourself again. You love this tiny human with every cell in your body… and still, you sometimes ache for who you were before you became "Mom."

Both can exist. Love for your baby and longing for your past self can live side by side. They don't cancel each other out—they reveal the depth and range of your capacity.

You Are Not Alone: Real Stories, Real Hearts

When I facilitated a postpartum circle a few months ago, I asked the group a simple question: "What do you miss most about your old self?" The answers were whispered at first, but then came pouring out:

"I miss my brain. I used to feel sharp and witty. Now I forget my coffee in the microwave three times a day."

"I miss feeling sexy. I don't even know what to wear anymore, and my body doesn't feel like it belongs to me."

"I miss being able to go to Target alone and not feel like I was rushing through a mission."

And with every share, the room softened. Shoulders relaxed. Eyes welled. Because when someone speaks the words your heart has been holding, something shifts. You realize: This isn't just me.

So let me say it clearly: you are not alone in this grief.

Let's Talk About the Guilt

If you're feeling guilty for even thinking about missing your old life, I want you to know this: Grief and gratitude are not opposites. You can be head-over-heels in love with your baby and still grieve the life that came before. One doesn't negate the other.

Guilt tries to tell you that missing your old life means you don't appreciate your new one—but that's not true. In fact, it's because you care so deeply that you're feeling all of it so intensely.

The goal isn't to "move on" from your old self—it's to integrate her. To invite her to evolve with you, instead of pretending she never existed.

Practical Ways to Reclaim Pieces of You

So how do you begin to navigate this identity shift with grace? Here's what I've seen help—both as a doula and a fellow mom who's been there:

• Name the grief. Talk about it. Journal it. Whisper it to a friend. The simple act of naming what feels lost brings it out of the shadows. It's not a shameful secret—it's a sacred truth.
• Keep one sacred habit from your pre-baby life. Did you always start your morning with yoga? Loved sketching, baking, or walking at dusk? Find a small, do-able way to reintroduce that ritual—even if it's only 10 minutes.
• Practice mirror kindness. Look into your own eyes and say something your old self would need to hear: "You are still here. I love you." This is gentle re-parenting of your own soul.
• Ask: "What do I need today to feel like me?" It could be as simple as a solo coffee run, playing a favorite song, or wearing lipstick again. Little sparks of identity add up.
• Join spaces where truth lives. Whether it's a mom group, an online community, or a safe friend—find people who aren't afraid to hold both the beauty and the ache.

You Are Still You—Just More

Mama, you are still you. Not gone. Not erased. Not forgotten. You are a deeper version of you. You've been cracked open in the most vulnerable, holy way. And what pours out isn't weakness—it's expansion.

So hold your baby close. And also hold yourself. You get to matter, too.

Your Mantra for Today

"I am still me. I am allowed to grieve and grow. I am not alone. I am becoming more whole every day."