They have your heart. These little humans have opened your heart and awakened something within you that you didn’t even know existed. You realise that you are in fact superhuman! You’d give your all for them, and if need be, smile in your mugshot. What was life like before you had the littles? No really? Who were you before you were mom? Who are you now? Do you know?

Someone asks what you like to do for fun, and you draw a blank. Your interests? They all feel like relics from another lifetime, buried under permission slips and laundry and the constant, all-consuming work of keeping tiny humans alive and thriving.

You are mom. You are a parent! The everything-for-everyone. But who are you when no one needs you for something?

Death by a Thousand Goldfish Crackers

It doesn’t happen all at once. You don’t wake up one day and suddenly realize you’ve completely lost yourself in parenthood. It’s gradual. Like how you didn’t notice when you stopped being a person who wore real pants and became someone whose entire wardrobe is “machine washable and has pockets for snacks.”

First, you set aside your hobbies because the baby needs you more than you need that piano class. Then you stop seeing friends as often because scheduling is complicated and honestly, you’re so tired you might fall asleep mid-sentence anyway. Over time, your relationship becomes focused on logistics and co-parenting rather than connection.

Your thoughts, once filled with your own dreams and ideas and interests, become occupied entirely by your children. One day you look up and realize: you have no idea what you want anymore. You can tell anyone what your children need, what they like, what their schedule is, what their struggles are, and exactly which brand of applesauce they’ll accept. But what about you? What do you need? Do you remember what brings you joy? What lights you up inside?

The answer feels embarrassingly distant. And worse, asking the question at all feels selfish, like wanting anything for yourself makes you a bad parent. Like you should just be grateful you kept everyone alive today and call it a win.

How We All Became Martyrs Nobody Asked Us to Be

Here’s the guilt that keeps you stuck: good parents sacrifice for their children. Good parents put their kids first. Good parents don’t complain about losing themselves because having children is a blessing, and wanting your own identity outside of them means you’re ungrateful for the privilege of parenthood.

This narrative is toxic and sadly; it’s everywhere. It tells mothers especially that their worth is measured entirely by how much they give up, how much they sacrifice and how little they need for themselves. It tells fathers that providing and protecting is enough, that their emotional needs and personal fulfillment are secondary to being strong and reliable.

But here’s the truth that no one says loudly enough: you can love your children completely and still miss who you were before them. You can be grateful for your family and still grieve the parts of yourself that disappeared into the void of endless bedtime negotiations. You can be a devoted parent and still want something that’s just yours—something that doesn’t involve wiping anyone else’s anything.

Wanting to rediscover yourself doesn’t make you selfish. And honestly? It makes you a better parent. Children need to see adults who have lives and interests and identities beyond caregiving.

A Memorial Service for Your Former Self

Perhaps you used to paint, and now the art supplies are collecting dust in a closet somewhere, probably next to that bread maker you swore you’d use. Maybe you used to run, and now you can’t remember the last time you moved your body for pleasure rather than just to check it off a list or chase a naked toddler through the house. Maybe you used to have dreams about your career, and now work is just something you do to pay the bills while your real life happens at home—where “real life” means refereeing disputes over who gets the blue cup.

The loss isn’t just about activities or hobbies. It’s about the felt sense of being yourself. The feeling of following your own curiosity. The experience of doing something for no reason other than it brings you joy—not because it’s enriching for the children or good for their development or teaching them anything useful. Just joy. Remember joy?

The identity you had before “parent” became the primary descriptor of who you are is still in there somewhere. Probably hiding under a pile of laundry, but it’s there. You don’t get those things back by accident. You get them back by deciding that you deserve to be more than just the person who takes care of everyone else.

Small Acts of Self-Reclamation

Finding yourself again doesn’t require a complete life overhaul or a dramatic identity crisis. (Though if you want to have a dramatic identity crisis, go for it. You’ve earned it.) It requires small, consistent acts of remembering and reclaiming who you are beyond your role as a parent. Start with what used to light you up.

Give yourself permission to explore without purpose. Try something you’ve always wondered about. Give yourself permission to be a beginner again, to be bad at something, to do something just because you want to.

Protect pockets of time that are just yours. Even 30 minutes a day can be transformative. But it has to be regular and it has to be protected. Time that’s yours, non-negotiable, where you do something that fills you up rather than depletes you.

Reconnect with your body as your own. Your body isn’t just a tool for caregiving. Move it in ways that feel good. Dress it in ways that make you feel like yourself—even if that means real pants! (I know; ICK!) Remember that it’s yours, not just a vessel for taking care of everyone else or a before-and-after photo waiting to happen.

Have conversations that aren’t about your kids. Practice talking about your own thoughts. It will feel awkward. That’s okay. You’re rebuilding the muscle of being a person with your own internal life worth sharing. Your thoughts matter!

Let yourself want things. Start noticing what you want, even in small moments. Do you want coffee or tea? Do you want to listen to music or sit in silence? Are you in the mood to read? Wanting is how you begin to know yourself again. It’s practice for bigger wants, like what you want from your life, your relationships, your future.

Redefining What It Means to Be a Good Parent

Part of finding yourself again requires challenging the narrative that good parents are self-sacrificing to the point of self-erasure. You’ve absorbed the message that your needs come last and that a good parent is always available, giving and putting their children first. Always! (Are you tired yet? Because I’m tired just writing it.)

But what if being a good parent actually requires maintaining your own identity? Maybe your children need to see you as a whole person so they can learn to become whole people themselves? What if the greatest gift you can give them isn’t complete self-sacrifice, but modeling what it looks like to take care of yourself while taking care of others?

Children who watch their parents take care of their own needs learn that adulthood isn’t just obligation and sacrifice. They realise that becoming a parent doesn’t mean losing yourself. They learn that having needs doesn’t make you weak or selfish.

Your children need you to be present and attuned. They also need you to be a person they can admire, not just for your parenting, but for how you live your life. Let them see you light up about something. Hear you laugh with friends about something that isn’t a funny thing your kid said. They need to witness you pursuing something that matters to you, something that has nothing to do with them.

You’re not just raising children. You’re showing them what kind of adult they might want to become. And you can’t show them a healthy, balanced adulthood if you’re completely consumed by parenthood, running on fumes and the crumbs of someone’s abandoned snack.

The New Year as a Real Beginning

New Year’s resolutions often focus on self-improvement—lose weight, get organized, be more productive. But what if this year, your resolution is simply to remember who you are? To reclaim the parts of yourself that got buried under the avalanche of parenting responsibilities?

This isn’t about becoming someone new or better or fixed. It’s about remembering someone you’ve always been, the person who still exists underneath all the roles and responsibilities. That person is still there. They’ve just been quiet for a while, waiting for you to notice them again. Probably wondering if you’re ever going to get back to that book you were reading or if it’s just going to live on your nightstand forever as a decorative object.

Start small. Pick one thing that feels like you. It could be reading before bed rather than scrolling through your phone. Maybe it’s taking a walk alone once a week. Do you knit? Whatever that thing is mama; do it! Pay attention to the thing that makes your mommy heart smile. Feel no judgment towards yourself for giving yourself permission to invest in this small pocket of joy.

It doesn’t have to be big or impressive or Instagram-worthy. It just has to be yours. Something you do not because you should, not because it makes you a better parent, not because it’s productive or helpful to anyone else, but simply because it reminds you that you’re still in there, still worthy of your own time and attention.

Coming Home to Yourself

Finding yourself again as a parent is a homecoming. It’s the relief of remembering that you’re still here, beneath all the caregiving and worry and endless work of raising children. You are still the person who has thoughts and dreams and interests. She is still worthy of your own care and attention. It is your right to take up space in your own life, not just in the tiny corners left over after everyone else has gotten what they need.

This new year, what if you made space for yourself? Not in the leftover moments. Not when everything else is done. (Again: everything else is never done. The laundry mocks us all.) But intentionally, deliberately, with the same care and attention you give to your children’s needs.

You deserve to be more than just “mom” or “dad.” You deserve to be a whole person with a life that includes parenting but isn’t defined entirely by it. Your children need you to be present for them, yes. But they also need you to be present for yourself. They need to see what that looks like so they can do it too someday.

The person you were before kids isn’t lost forever. They’re just waiting for you to come back. Waiting for you to remember who you are (insert Mufasa in the clouds.) She is waiting for you to stop apologizing for wanting things.

This year, come home to yourself. Your children will be better for it. Seeing you happy, will make them happy. And you’ll be better for it too, because you’ll remember that you’re not just a supporting character in someone else’s story. You’re the main character in your own life, even if that life currently involves a lot more snack distribution than you ever anticipated.

You’re still in there. And you’re worth finding again.