Who Were You Before You Had Children?

A love letter to the woman you were… and the one you’re becoming.

Who were you before you had children?

Really. Who was that woman?

• The one who woke when her body was ready, not because tiny feet had climbed into her bed.

• The one who danced until late, or stayed in with a book, or cried on the floor of the bathroom after a breakup.

• The one who had dreams scribbled on the back of receipts, half-baked business plans, a wardrobe that wasn’t half-comprised of leggings.
  

The one who didn’t have to be anyone but herself. Do you remember her? Do you miss her? I do.

The abs broke but I didn’t

After my second baby, I was diagnosed with diastasis recti. It’s a fancy name for what’s essentially a deep separation of your abdominal muscles – common, yes, but that doesn’t mean easy.

My core felt weak, my body unfamiliar. The one I’d used to carry babies, hold space, carry the shopping and the emotional load – now needed rehab. Serious rehab.

And even now, three years later, I’m still walking that journey. Still rebuilding.

And for a while, I mourned the woman I used to be. The one who didn’t think twice about what clothes would hide the changes. The one who could move with ease. The one who didn’t feel quite so tethered to her body’s limitations. But then something shifted.

Because even though my body was different – stretched, slower, softer in places – it was also growing something new. Like a garden. That first birth planted seeds I didn’t even know were there.

And now, all these years on, I can see wildflowers. Messy. Beautiful. Untameable.

Motherhood is a radical evolution.

Not a loss.

Not a disappearance.

But a cellular-level rebirth. You didn’t lose the woman you were. You became the next iteration of her. Layered, stretched, tenderised by love and responsibility, made more complex by fatigue and purpose and the sheer relentlessness of showing up again and again and again.

The wisdom you hold now? It’s richer because of her.

That version of you who had space and silence and time to think – she didn’t disappear. She became part of the soil that grew you into who you are now. And when we grieve her (as we all do, at some point), we’re not grieving because she was better – we’re grieving because no one told us that evolution feels like grief before it feels like power.

So what if we stopped framing motherhood as something that steals us?

What if we named it as sacred, cyclical, powerful? What if we told a new story – one where your identity doesn’t shrink, it expands?

Where rage, tenderness, confusion, clarity, love, boredom, purpose and longing can all live in the same breath – and none of it makes you any less whole.

You are not lost.

You are not broken.

You are not gone.

You are in process.

You are in motion.

You are in evolution.

And that, is sacred work.

Want to explore this version of motherhood with someone who sees the full picture – not just the nappies and naps, but the rebirth of you too? This is the work I do. With women. For women. Through birth, postnatal care, and deep coaching support.

Land in my inbox. Or find me over on Instagram @journeyaheaddoula – where we speak the truth and reclaim the power.