When I was pregnant, I felt accomplished.
I could point to growth—literally. I was growing ears, eyes, fingers, toes (twenty of them!). Each week came with new milestones. Doctor’s appointments. Measurements. Articles telling me what to expect. There was structure, predictability, and—even through discomfort—a sense of forward motion.
I had a plan. I knew what was next. And I felt powerful. But once I gave birth, the ground shifted. Suddenly, my expectations didn’t match reality. I made plans that didn’t work. I aimed for schedules that fell apart by 9 AM. I found myself crying over toast I burned and blanket I forgot.
And I felt—oddly—unaccomplished.
Not because I wasn’t doing enough. But because what I was doing didn’t look like what I had planned. I was late to meetings. I was behind on texts. I was unshowered at 3 PM.
And I couldn’t reconcile the woman who had grown two entire humans… with the woman who now couldn’t keep a plan together for two hours.
It was humbling. And hard. No one warned me that the real identity shift wasn’t just becoming a mother—it was figuring out who I was when everything I measured myself by no longer fit.
The old markers of productivity? Irrelevant.
The timelines? Laughable.
The version of me I worked so hard to maintain? She was being rewritten—sometimes minute by minute.
But here’s the thing I’m learning:
The same grace I extended to myself during pregnancy—the naps, the softness, the pride in slow progress—I need to extend to myself now.
Because I’m still growing. Not just babies. But capacity. Patience. Flexibility. Self-worth that isn’t tied to crossed-off checklists.
If this is you, too—know that you’re not behind.
You’re in process.
And you're still accomplishing things- your growth is just less visible. And it is still VERY important to acknowledge.