From Lost to Found: My Journey Through Motherhood, Healing, and Rediscovering Myself

I thought I knew exactly what kind of mom I’d be. I’d juggle a successful career while raising happy, thriving kids in a safe and encouraging environment. I imagined having endless patience to play, connect, and create a world of exploration and growth for my children. I thought my husband and I would stay just as magnetically connected as we were before kids—because we had an open and honest relationship, or so I believed.

But reality hit me hard, and it was nothing like what I expected.

My daughter wouldn’t take a bottle and would only sleep on me. While the extra bonding time was beautiful, it devastated my budding career. I started to feel jealous of my husband’s freedom to leave for work and return home seemingly having the best of both worlds. Then, when my daughter was just eight months old, the pandemic hit, and everything we knew about life flipped upside down.

My husband and I, once so deeply connected, began a slow, painful journey of drifting apart. Frustration and resentment replaced love and understanding. And yet, amidst all this, we decided to buy a house and grow our family.

The Perfect Storm

During my second pregnancy, anxiety started creeping in. I worried about how my daughter would adjust to having a sibling so close in age. They would be just 18 months apart, and I didn’t want her world to be turned upside down. But it felt like I manifested that very fear. When my son was born, it wasn’t the beautiful, seamless transition I had hoped for.

He went straight to the NICU and came home with torticollis, flathead, acid reflux, colic, a tongue tie, and a lip tie. He wouldn’t sleep and needed to nurse every 30 minutes. On top of that, I developed mastitis, prolapse, and crippling stomach pain. My son and I were at five or more appointments a week, leaving my daughter with her nanny, which added a new layer of guilt.

I started to blame myself for his health challenges. Every night, as I nursed him, I would cry. I felt like I was failing both of my kids. My husband escaped into work, where he felt successful, leaving me alone to figure out the chaos of motherhood. I felt trapped—physically, emotionally, and mentally.

The Weight of It All

Postpartum depression consumed me, but I refused to acknowledge the severity of it. I held my emotions in for fear of scaring my kids or damaging them forever, but the intensity of it all eventually exploded. Some days, I would scream—not at them, but at the overwhelming agony I couldn’t contain. Then, at night, I would punish myself with my inner critic, feeding it with every perceived failure.

My nervous system was in shambles. My skin crawled constantly. My body would jump when my husband tried to touch me, and my kids’ screams felt like they were shattering my brain. I started wearing earplugs just to survive being around them.

I tried to regain control by exercising, but even that felt like a losing battle. I would wake up at 5 a.m., after sleepless nights, to fit in a workout, but my son would wake up and demand my attention. I never thought to ask my husband for help—I had convinced myself that I didn’t matter because I wasn’t contributing financially. I felt insignificant and unworthy of asking for support.

And over and over again, I asked myself, “What’s wrong with me?”

The Breaking Point

The breaking point came one day when I had an out-of-body experience. I looked at myself with my kids and wondered, Who is this woman? The real me—the loving, kind, patient mom I wanted to be—was nowhere to be found. I saw a woman full of rage, overwhelmed, and isolated from everyone she loved.

In that moment, I realized I couldn’t keep living this way.

I started reading books on behavior, parenting, and healing. I learned how to create a pause before reacting—even though my body had been conditioned for years to act on impulse. It was as simple as physically stepping backward instead of forward when I felt triggered. That tiny, almost insignificant act gave me just enough space to choose a different response.

The Road to Healing

The journey wasn’t quick or easy. I worked with therapists and bodyworkers to heal my nervous system and interrupt my patterns. Along the way, I developed debilitating stomach pain that took me away from family moments, adding guilt and anger to my already heavy emotional load.

In early 2023, after emergency surgery, doctors discovered I was on the path to colon cancer—a diagnosis that could have taken my life before age 45. That discovery saved my life. Sitting on the couch with my family, tears streaming down my face, I realized how precious my time with them was. But even then, it took months of inner work to find the courage to address the pain within my marriage.

The Five-Minute Conversation

Nine months later, I finally told my husband how unseen, undervalued, and unimportant I felt. To my surprise, he listened, and in five minutes, everything shifted. We both realized we were willing to do whatever it took to save our marriage and rebuild the safe, loving connection we’d lost.

That moment opened a door to deeper vulnerability. Two days later, my husband lowered his walls and shared more with me than he ever had in his life. For the first time in years, I saw him as a real person—not my enemy.

The Transformation

Healing myself gave me the courage to heal my marriage, and it also transformed my parenting. I reconnected with the younger version of myself—the little girl who felt unseen and unimportant—and showed her compassion, grace, and love. That process reminded me what it feels like to be a child, and it deepened my connection with my own kids.

Today, I’m not perfect, but I am present. I prioritize connection, speak up for what I need, and create space for joy and healing in my home. I’m teaching my family that it’s okay to make mistakes, to apologize, and to grow together.

My Mission

I share this because I know I’m not the only mom who has felt trapped, lost, and broken by motherhood. I’ve experienced some of the deepest sadness, guilt, and shame, and I know how heavy that weight can be.

But I also know this: we don’t have to stay stuck.

My mission is to help mothers heal their inner wounds, rebuild their relationships, and create lives of intention, connection, and joy. Together, we can break the cycle of guilt and unworthiness and pass down a new legacy to our children—a legacy of love, courage, and authenticity.

If my story resonates with you, please share it with a mom who might need to hear it. Let’s start changing the story of motherhood, together.