No one warns you how loud the quiet moments can be

Before I became a mum, I thought I had a strong sense of self. I knew who I was. I had routines, dreams, plans. Then the baby came—and everything got stripped back.

It wasn’t dramatic at first. It was subtle.
Tiny choices. Little shifts.
Less time for me, more focus on everyone else.
Then one day I looked in the mirror and thought, Where did she go?

Motherhood didn’t break me—but it rearranged me.
It turned my old identity inside out. It forced me to examine things I hadn’t touched in years: how I measured my worth, where I got my confidence, why “being needed” had started replacing “feeling seen”.

And here’s the uncomfortable truth I had to face as a coach and a woman:
I was showing up for everyone but me.

You don’t realise how much you’ve bent until something snaps.
For me, it was a moment in the kitchen—cold tea on the side, baby asleep, the house finally quiet—and this voice in my head saying, You can’t keep pretending you’re fine.

So I stopped.

Not being a mum. But being the version of me who thought needing space made me selfish.
The version who believed burnout was just part of the deal.
The version who felt guilty for wanting more than nappies and nap schedules.

I started carving out tiny moments—five minutes in the morning to breathe, not scroll. Ten minutes to write what I actually felt. Saying “no” when I meant it, instead of smiling through resentment.

And slowly, something came back.
Not the old me—but a clearer, braver version. One who could hold both: love for her child, and love for herself.
Because it’s not either/or. It never was.

If you feel like you’ve lost yourself in motherhood, maybe you’re not lost. Maybe you’ve just gone quiet.
And maybe it’s time to listen.

Not to the noise.
To you.

You’re still in there.
And she’s worth hearing.