The house is surprisingly calm at the moment. I find myself sitting near the window, watching my children play outside, while I attempt to gather my scattered thoughts. Almost instantly, I hear one of them begin to cry. I hesitate to get up, knowing it’s just a typical sibling disagreement, and that my youngest, who is four, will soon move on.
These fleeting moments of tranquility happen now and then—five minutes here, maybe fifteen there—interspersed between snack requests and band-aids for the latest minor injuries. Surprisingly, when I pause to reflect, I realize those brief periods of harmony appear frequently in my home. They are like rare bursts of calm that a mother can hardly rely on, hardly long enough to accomplish anything significant.
Typically, when I do experience a moment of quiet, my mind is anything but still. I often find myself wiping down the kitchen counter while mentally checking off my to-do list.
Once I finish cleaning, laundry is next on the agenda, then perhaps I’ll take a moment to have a snack. Swim lessons are just around the corner; I must remember to grab more sunscreen. What’s for dinner? Should I get Max into soccer this fall? I can already hear Lily coming in to tell me she’s bored again. How can I keep her entertained? Have I devoted enough time to Ben this week? Summer is slipping away too quickly, and oh, how I wish I could sneak in a nap. What on earth is that stain on the cabinet? It’s time to teach these kids to clean up after themselves! Did I follow up on that life insurance call?
It’s an endless stream of worries and feelings mixed with an ongoing list of tasks. When a quiet moment occurs, it feels like a brief glimpse into a whirlwind of thoughts and responsibilities.
Often, I hear the sentiment that women lose themselves in motherhood. Others argue that they’re still present, and I can relate to both sides of this conversation. While I know I exist behind the constant chatter in my mind that keeps me focused on navigating our busy days, I often find there’s little room left for my own thoughts to surface—thoughts that aren’t intertwined with my family’s needs.
When I say I’ve lost myself to motherhood, it’s not that I can’t think for myself anymore, but rather that my priorities have shifted so dramatically that there’s little space for my own desires and aspirations.
Looking back at my life before children, I struggle to recall what it was like to act spontaneously or not consider how my plans might affect a school event or a soccer game. That’s where I feel adrift. The days of sitting down without that internal dialogue, urging me to check off another task or remind me to teach my child something vital like self-sufficiency, feel like a distant memory.
The thoughts that swirl in my head on most days aren’t entirely negative; they resemble the instinctual practice of survival skills essential not only for my well-being but for those around me. While it may not always be that dramatic—sometimes it’s simply about locating a lost toy that my toddler hasn’t stopped talking about—it can feel all-consuming nonetheless.
So, when mothers express feeling lost, it’s often because they need a moment of quiet to realize they are still very much present. Instead, there’s often a nagging voice filled with guilt, reminding us we should be doing something productive while the kids are content, or we find ourselves staring blankly out the window, grateful for the calm, yet longing for a moment to just breathe without someone needing our attention.
Whereas we might have indulged in reading a book during our quiet moments in the past, we now often just want to lose ourselves in thought. It takes longer now to shift gears and engage in activities that once defined us, like creating or reconnecting with friends. The essence of who we were before children hasn’t disappeared; it’s simply buried under the daily demands of family life.
This is why you’ll often find women aimlessly wandering the aisles of stores like Target, admiring pretty things. For a few moments, it feels indulgent to do something without a purpose. We are not empty shells of our former selves; we are still just as creative, artistic, spontaneous, and talented as we were before motherhood. It simply requires more effort to quiet the chaos and reconnect with our true selves.
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Summary:
Motherhood can feel all-consuming, often leading women to feel they’ve lost a part of themselves. While quiet moments can be rare, the inner dialogue of responsibilities and tasks can drown out personal thoughts. This doesn’t mean identity is lost; it’s simply overshadowed by daily demands. Reconnecting with oneself may take time, but it’s still possible amidst the chaos of family life.