Who am I?

Everything was going so smoothly. I had finally got my routine back. It’s been 18 months since I gave birth to my daughter and things were actually starting to fall into shape. I go to work, I eat well, I go out, I have fun – my life couldn’t be more blessed.

But life has a way of surprising us just when we start to feel settled. It’s almost as if the moment we exhale, the universe gently whispers, “There’s more.” More love, more change, more growth waiting to unfold. I had just begun to feel like me again – not just the mom, the wife, or the employee – but me, the woman behind it all. And then, once again, life decided to rewrite the script.

We were planning for our second baby. It was no surprise that I was pregnant. But the thing is, you believe that the 2nd pregnancy is going to be easier. Things are clearer. Nothing is quite new to you. And hey, you’ve been doing this for the past 18 months, so you’ll be fine… when in fact, you won’t. At least in my case.

I was too excited for this pregnancy that I got anxious. Maybe I wasn’t ready for this new commitment. Is it too soon?

I went into labor knowing exactly what awaited me. the monitors, the cuffs, the belts across my belly, the needles, the pressure… all the things that once felt foreign. This time, they were familiar. This time, I walked in with clarity, strength, and a heart that understood the journey ahead, which made me more anxious.

But it doesn’t end when you give birth. Everything begins the moment your newborn screams their first cries as oxygen enters their tiny lungs.

This is when my life changed. I changed.

From that day forward, I pushed everything away and fully focused on my husband and 2 children that little by little, I forgot who I was.

I did everything my family wanted. Whatever pleased them.
Playdates for my daughter.
Sleepless nights with a newborn who needed me.
Outings with my husband because we both needed to breathe, just for a moment, from the weight of new responsibilities.

But somewhere in all of that… I forgot who I was.
Who I really am.
What do I like?
What makes me happy?
What’s my coping mechanism?

I showed up for everyone – except myself.

Days after days, the load started building up without me noticing it. Until one night, I exploded. There was no actual or valid reason. It was just me handling too many things at once – just like all working moms. That’s when I decided to pay my therapist a visit.

WHO ARE YOU?

I burst into tears as she asks me. Because for the first time, someone wasn’t asking about the baby, or the house, or the plans. She was asking about me. And I realized… I didn’t have an answer.

I don’t know who I am anymore. I forgot what makes me happy. I have no idea what it’s like to do something for myself anymore.

I used to go on walks, I used to write, I used to take pictures of all the things around me, I used to watch movies weekly, I used to exist.

Don’t get me wrong. My husband is a great great great man. He stood beside me since day 1. I can say with confidence from the bottom of my heart that he makes postpartum easier. But it was not about whether he was present or not. It was about me taking the initiatives to find myself again. The demotivation hit hard.

…

More to follow in Who Am I part II