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It's normal to feel lost after having a baby. Nobody just told you why.

  • Writer: Blessy Varghese
    Blessy Varghese
  • 22 hours ago
  • 5 min read

 You’re answering emails while mentally keeping track of everything else. A school form you forgot to sign. Dinner plans. Tomorrow’s meeting. 

You’re functioning. You’re getting through the day. Most people would say you’re handling it well. 


But somewhere between taking care of everyone else and meeting every deadline, a thought quietly crosses your mind: What do I actually want right now? 

And before you can sit with it, something else needs your attention. 

Not because you don’t care about yourself. But because somewhere along the way, your needs stopped feeling urgent enough to pause for. This isn’t always burnout. Sometimes, it’s quieter than that. 


The slow experience of becoming so responsible for everyone else’s life that you slowly lose touch with your own. Many women silently search for support through Parenting Counselling when emotional overwhelm starts affecting daily life, relationships, and identity. 


This Mother's Day, we're not here to celebrate how much she does. We're here to name what it's costing her. 


You didn't lose yourself all at once. 


There was no single moment. No dramatic breaking point you could look back at and say, there, that's where it happened. 

It happened in increments. 


It happened the morning you chose to skip your run because the baby was unsettled, and that felt like the obvious, reasonable thing to do. It happened when you stopped making plans with friends who needed the version of you that had opinions about films and time to linger over dinner. It happened in the hundred small moments where your needs were the sensible thing to set aside and so you did. 

Each choice, on its own, made complete sense. Together, they added up to something you're only now starting to feel. 


Psychologists have a word for this: role engulfment. It's what happens when one role- mother, caregiver, the person who keeps everything running gradually occupies all the psychological space where a fuller identity used to live. It doesn't feel like loss as it's happening. It feels like responsibility. It feels like love. It feels like what good mothers do. Which is exactly why it's so hard to name. 



The guilt that never fully lifts. 


You feel guilty at work because part of your mind is still with your child. And when you’re at home, part of you is still thinking about work. 

The guilt follows you into both spaces. It never fully switches off. 

And over time, it starts shaping the way you treat yourself. 


Your needs begin to feel less important. Rest feels like something you have to earn. Choosing yourself starts to come with guilt, while choosing everyone else feels safer, more responsible. 


So gradually, without fully realizing it, you stop considering your own needs at all. 

 Many parenting challenges parents experience are not always visible from the outside Sometimes they quietly build through emotional exhaustion, constant responsibility, and the pressure to hold everything together. 

Not because you don’t have them. But because you’ve trained yourself to believe they can wait. 


You let go of small pieces of yourself through decisions that made sense at the time. Decisions made out of love, responsibility, and survival. 

And that kind of guilt, the kind with no clear finish line can slowly empty you out before you even realize what’s happening. 

 

What Actually Shifted? 

 

Over time, the changes become strangely practical. You stop buying books, you never have time to finish. Your playlists stay the same because you no longer go looking for new music. You realize you haven’t had an uninterrupted conversation with a friend in months. 

You become highly efficient at managing everyone else’s needs, schedules, emotions, and routines.  But when someone asks what you enjoy lately, the answer doesn’t come as quickly as it used to. 


Even rest changes shape. Silence becomes a place to think about tasks. 

There's a word for the transition that caused all of this. Anthropologists call it Matrescence- the psychological, neurological, and identity-level transformation of becoming a mother. It is, researchers argue, as seismic as adolescence.


The same disorientation. The same identity fragmentation. The same sense of not quite knowing who you are anymore, while performing competence for everyone around you. 

Except this time, nobody expects it. Nobody gives her space to navigate it. And there's certainly no gap year. 

 

Why time off doesn’t always help? 


People often respond to mothers’ exhaustion with solutions that sound simple: Take a break. Sleep more. Book the trip. Do something for yourself. 

And while those things can help, they don’t always reach the real problem. 

Because sometimes the exhaustion doesn’t come from being busy. It comes from spending so many years being needed by everyone else that you’ve become

disconnected from the parts of yourself that existed outside of responsibility. 


So, when you finally do get time alone, it can feel strangely unfamiliar. 

Not because you don’t appreciate the break. But because you’ve spent so long responding to other people’s needs that your own preferences no longer feel immediate or obvious. 

Which is why this isn’t only about self-care. It’s about rebuilding a relationship with yourself, slowly, intentionally, and without guilt attached to it. 


 

What reconnecting with yourself can actually look like? 


The goal isn’t to become the person you were before motherhood. 

The real work is learning how to make space for all the parts of you to exist together: the mother, the professional, and the person underneath both roles. 

And that kind of reconnection doesn’t usually happen through quick fixes or occasional breaks alone. 

It starts more quietly. 


By noticing how often you dismiss your own needs automatically. By asking yourself: What do I need? What feels meaningful to me now? 

At first, those questions can feel surprisingly unfamiliar. 

Which is why support matters. Because healing often begins in spaces where you don’t have to take care of everyone else first. Spaces where you get to exist as a full person again. 


That isn’t selfish. It’s the process of finding your way back to yourself. 

You're allowed to love your children completely and also grieve the parts of yourself that got quietly set aside in the process. 


Those two things can coexist. They do coexist in most working mothers you'll ever meet. The love is real. So is the loss. Holding both of those truths at once, without collapsing either of them, is not weakness. It's the most honest thing you can do. 

If this felt familiar, you're not alone and you don't have to figure it out by yourself. At Crink, we work specifically with working mothers navigating identity, guilt, and burnout. You don't need a crisis to start. 

 

If this felt familiar, you’re not alone. Motherhood can feel overwhelming, especially when you’re carrying everyone else’s needs while quietly ignoring your own. 

At Crink, we support mothers dealing with stress, burnout, guilt, anxiety, and emotional overwhelm through online therapy in your language, at your own pace. 

You don’t have to figure everything out alone. 

  

 

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