I look in the mirror and a stranger looks back, when do you start feeling like yourself again?

Health & Wellness Postpartum
1

I caught my reflection in the elevator yesterday and I genuinely did a double take. The woman in the metal panel looked exhausted, soft in places I never used to be soft, with a stain on her shoulder and roots growing out and eyes that just looked dimmer. It took me a full second to realize that woman was me.

I’m not even talking about weight, although yes, the body thing is its own grief. I’m talking about the woman INSIDE the body. She used to run a department. She used to read novels in the bath. She had opinions about wine. She wore real earrings. Now I am a 24/7 dairy operation in stained leggings and I cannot remember the last full thought I finished.

The hardest part is that I love my daughter so completely it terrifies me. So this isn’t regret. It’s grief. I’m mourning a woman who is not coming back, and no one prepared me for that.

My friends without kids keep saying “you’ll bounce back!” with bright voices and I want to tell them I don’t WANT to bounce back. I want to know who I am now. I don’t have a map for this version of me.

For the women a year or two out, did you find her? Did a new her show up? How did you start? Did anything help, like a small ritual, a hobby, going back to work, anything?

4 Likes
2

Eighteen months out from my second and yes, she shows up. Not the old you, a new one, and that took me a long time to accept as a good thing instead of a loss. The grief is real though, you’re allowed to mourn her properly. The small thing that started it for me was claiming back one tiny ritual that was MINE, not mom-coded, not productive, not useful. For me it was a real coffee in a real mug, sat down, while someone else held the baby, fifteen minutes, three times a week. From there other pieces came back slowly. What’s one thing the pre-baby you loved that you haven’t touched in months? Start dumb-small.

3 Likes
3

My kids are teens now and I’ll tell you the stranger in the mirror does become someone you recognize again, but she’s a new version, not the old one rebooted. The grief you’re feeling is real and worth honoring, not skipping past. The thing that started bringing me back was one small selfish ritual that was only mine. Start absurdly small, one chapter of a book, a song in the car with the volume up, fifteen minutes that isn’t useful or productive. The rest follows.

3 Likes