Mom Monday — Missing the Version of Me Before Motherhood

I stared at my reflection in the mirror as the steam from my hot shower slowly began to fog up the bathroom.

I looked at my body from the front.

Then from one side.

Then the other.

Then back to the front again.

I sucked in my apron belly, held it for a second, released it, and sighed.

I found myself trying to remember what my body looked like before the babies.

Now don’t get me wrong—I love my girls more than anything in this world. I would never trade them for anything, and I have never regretted becoming their mother.

Not once.

But if I’m being honest, there are times I miss the version of myself that no longer exists.

And I think that’s something many moms are afraid to say out loud.

Somewhere between diapers, school schedules, work schedules, co-parenting, laundry, dishes, and making sure everyone else was okay, I forgot who I was before everyone needed me.

For a long time, I viewed that as something negative.

Like I had somehow lost myself.

But lately I’ve been wondering if maybe I was looking at it the wrong way.

Maybe I was meant to have this body.

This body carried my beautiful girls.

This body endured sleepless nights, stress, healing, and growth.

This body became a home before it became something I judged in the mirror.

Maybe I was meant to be needed because motherhood shaped me into someone more nurturing, patient, and loving than I ever thought possible.

Still, there are things I miss.

I miss being able to leave the house without planning for three people.

I miss deciding to run a quick errand without packing bags, snacks, drinks, and making sure everyone is ready.

Thank God for grocery delivery and Amazon because they have saved me more times than I can count.

But more than that, I miss the freedom of only having to worry about myself.

Even when my girls are with their dads, my mind still revolves around them.

I’m thinking about what they need.

What they have coming up.

What I need to do before they get back home.

The responsibility never really leaves.

As much as I love my girls, I realized something recently:

I didn’t just lose time in motherhood.

I lost myself in it.

I stopped being disciplined with my health.

I stopped taking time to explore life outside of my responsibilities.

I stopped doing things simply because they brought me joy.

And perhaps the biggest one of all…

I stopped writing.

Before recently, I hadn’t written recreationally in almost nine years.

Nine years.

Writing was something I loved long before I became a mom.

But somewhere along the way, it got pushed aside.

Motherhood became my identity.

Then relationships became part of my identity.

And eventually there wasn’t much room left for Mariah.

There was Mom.

There was partner.

There was caretaker.

But there wasn’t much space left for me.

I told myself I didn’t have time.

I didn’t have time for friends.

I didn’t have time to read.

I didn’t have time to write.

I didn’t have time to prioritize my health.

I didn’t have time to figure out who I was becoming.

Everything revolved around my household and the people I loved.

And while there is beauty in serving your family, there is also danger in completely disappearing inside of it.

Because God created me to be more than the roles I fill.

He created me to be Mariah.

And now, for the first time in a long time, I’m determined to figure out who she is.

Not apart from motherhood—but beyond it.

I’m finding my identity in God.

I’m showing up for my community through Bible studies, walking groups, and friendships.

I’m showing up for my health by being more intentional about what I put into my body. Lord knows snacking is still my biggest downfall.

I’m making time to work out three times a week.

I’m spending more time with my girlfriends.

I’m trying things I’ve never done before.

I’m taking myself on solo dates.

I’m reading again.

I’m writing again.

And the best part?

I’m doing it slowly.

At a pace that feels sustainable.

At a pace that doesn’t overwhelm me.

I’m not trying to reinvent myself overnight.

I’m simply taking the time to get to know myself again.

And maybe that’s what this season is really about.

Not finding the woman I was before motherhood.

But discovering the woman I’m becoming because of it.

And maybe a year from now, if someone asks me, “Who is Mariah?”

My answer will be bigger than:

“I’m a mom of two girls.”

With love,

Momma Riah 💜

As a single mom, something I wrestle with is this question:

How do I make sure my babies have a strong foundation when God designed fathers to play such an important role in a child’s life?

Even when fathers are involved from separate households, I still find myself wondering if I’m giving my girls everything they need to feel safe, secure, and grounded.

Truthfully, I think part of that struggle comes from my own childhood.

There were cracks in my sense of safety growing up. Not physical safety, but emotional safety. There were moments where things felt uncertain, and because of that, I sometimes question whether I’m showing up the right way for my daughters.

My girls are physically safe.

They are loved.

They are cared for.

They seem emotionally healthy.

But sometimes I still wonder if I’m missing something.

For example, my oldest daughter absolutely hates anything dirty. If something gets on her hands, she’s cleaning it off immediately.

One of her chores is putting away clean dishes and loading dirty dishes into the dishwasher.

Simple enough, right?

Not exactly.

Most days it comes with an attitude.

An eye roll.

A sigh.

A dramatic walk to the kitchen.

A complaint or two.

And every time it happens, I find myself wondering if I’m handling it correctly.

I explain that responsibilities don’t disappear just because we don’t feel like doing them. There are plenty of things I don’t want to do in life, but I still have to show up and fulfill my responsibilities.

Sometimes that conversation ends with a “Yes ma’am.”

Sometimes it ends with tears.

Sometimes it ends with tension.

And afterward, I find myself questioning my leadership.

Am I teaching responsibility?

Or am I missing an opportunity to shape something deeper?

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe my concern isn’t really about the dishes.

Maybe it’s about wanting my daughters to have a stronger foundation than I had.

I want them to know who they are.

I want them to know they belong.

I want them to know they are loved, valued, and capable.

I want them to have the confidence to walk through this world knowing exactly whose they are.

And that’s where I realized something important.

While I can’t provide everything on my own, I don’t have to.

God never asked me to be everything.

He asked me to trust Him.

Because what God can provide for my daughters is greater than what any earthly parent can provide on their own.

His love is constant.

His protection is constant.

His guidance is constant.

And while I may not always have all the answers, I can point my girls toward the One who does.

So maybe the answer isn’t trying to fill every gap perfectly.

Maybe the answer is inviting God into our home more intentionally.

More conversations about faith.

More prayer together.

More teaching them who God says they are.

More reminders that their identity isn’t found in what they do, how they perform, or what other people think.

Their identity is found in Him.

And maybe that’s the strongest foundation I can give them.

Not a perfect mother.

Not a perfect home.

But a home that points them toward a perfect God.

With love,

Momma Riah 💜