I love my daughter with every cell of my being.
She is joy, magic, laughter.
But I have to say it — even if it shocks you:
I don’t like being a mother.
There, I said it.
I am one of “those women.”
The ones who whisper their truth behind closed doors.
Who cry in the shower.
Who scroll through parenting forums looking for someone — anyone — who gets it.
I didn’t know this version of me existed until I became a mom.
No one warned me how lonely it could feel to love your child so much…
…while secretly grieving the life you left behind.
Before Motherhood, I Was Someone
I used to feel free.
I had long, quiet mornings. Spontaneous weekends. A sense of who I was — and what I wanted.
I had goals. Identity. Wholeness.
Now?
I'm "mom."
Always needed. Always interrupted. Always last on the list.
And don’t get me wrong — it’s not her fault.
It’s just the reality of how deeply motherhood consumes you.
Regret and Love Can Coexist
This is the part most people don’t understand.
They hear “regret” and think it means I don’t love my child.
But that couldn’t be further from the truth.
I love her so fiercely it hurts.
But I can still mourn the version of myself that vanished the day she was born.
That doesn’t make me a bad mother.
It makes me an honest one.
The Guilt Is a Constant Companion
I wish I could say this truth sets me free — but it doesn’t.
It wraps me in guilt. Every day.
Guilt when I see other moms smiling at the playground.
Guilt when I lose my patience.
Guilt when I imagine what my life could have been if I’d made a different choice.
Sometimes I think about how much more present I could’ve been —
if motherhood didn’t feel like a life sentence.
Sometimes I wonder if other women feel the same but are too afraid to say it.
The Lies We’re Sold About Motherhood
We’re told it’s natural. Fulfilling. Instinctive.
But what if it’s not?
What if some of us step into motherhood and think,
“I wasn’t built for this.”
Society doesn’t give us room for that truth.
You’re either glowing and grateful…
Or cold and ungrateful.
But where’s the space for nuance?
For the mother who shows up every single day but feels like she’s fading away?
What I Wish I Could Say Without Judgment
Sometimes I want to scream:
-
“I miss who I was.”
-
“I need more than this.”
-
“I love my child, but I hate this role.”
But I don’t.
Because I’ve seen the judgment in people’s eyes.
I’ve heard the “at least you have a child” comments.
I’ve felt the shame.
So I smile.
And pack the lunch.
And wipe the tears.
And pretend this is what I always wanted.
If You Feel This Way Too — You’re Not Alone
This isn’t a story of ungratefulness.
It’s a story of grief.
Grief for the woman I was, and the life I thought I’d have.
And if you feel this way too — I see you.
You’re not broken.
You’re not a failure.
You’re just someone who needs space to feel — without being labeled heartless.
What Motherhood Taught Me (That No One Else Did)
Motherhood taught me that love isn’t always wrapped in joy.
Sometimes it’s wrapped in exhaustion, resentment, and aching silence.
Sometimes it looks like staying even when every part of you wants to run.
It also taught me that I deserve to exist as more than a title.
That it’s okay to say:
“I love my child… and I wish things were different.”
Maybe one day, we’ll stop whispering.
Maybe one day, mothers will be allowed to speak their full truth — even the uncomfortable parts.
Until then, I’ll keep writing.
Keep saying the hard things.
And maybe, just maybe, another mother reading this will exhale and think:
“Me too.”
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