(Why mothers can’t disappear in motherhood)
Somewhere along the way, many mothers quietly disappear.
Not physically — we’re still packing lunches, scheduling appointments, wiping tears, cheering from the sidelines, and showing up for everyone who needs us.
But pieces of us slowly get pushed to the side.
Our hobbies.
Our interests.
Our time.
Sometimes even our identity.
Motherhood is one of the most beautiful callings in the world — but it was never meant to erase the woman God created you to be.
And no matter what season of motherhood you’re in, you are still allowed to exist as a whole person too.
This Post Is for Every Kind of Mom
This post is for the new mom who is still trying to figure everything out.
The one who barely remembers what a full night of sleep feels like and is wondering if she’ll ever feel like herself again.
It’s for the mom learning to juggle siblings, realizing that parenting one child is one thing… but parenting multiple tiny humans with completely different personalities is an entirely new level of chaos.
It’s for the mom of teenagers, who spent years pouring herself into motherhood and suddenly feels a little invisible while her child enters a season that requires less nurturing and… somehow a lot more money. 😂
And it’s also for the mom of adult children, who is learning how to find her place in their lives in a new way. The one trying to balance being supportive without overstepping, learning when to step back, and discovering what it looks like to be both a trusted guide and, eventually, a friend.
Motherhood changes with every season.
But in every season, one truth remains the same:
You still matter, too.
The Myth of the Self-Sacrificing Mom
There’s this unspoken belief that “good moms” give up everything for their children.
Their hobbies.
Their friendships.
Their interests.
Their time alone.
And while motherhood absolutely requires sacrifice, it was never meant to require erasure.
Because the truth is, our children don’t just need caregivers.
They need whole mothers.
Mothers who laugh.
Mothers who rest.
Mothers who still have passions.
Mothers who show them what it looks like to live a full life.
What Special Needs Parenting Can Teach Us
Raising August has taught me a lot about priorities.
There are seasons where our life revolves around therapy schedules, advocacy, and learning new skills. There are days that feel heavy and exhausting.
But there are also moments that remind me that life is still meant to be enjoyed.
Coffee on the porch.
Laughing with my husband.
Watching August jump and crash onto the crash pad like it’s the best game in the world.
And in those moments, I remember that caring for myself isn’t selfish.
It’s necessary.
Because when I take care of my own heart, I show up for my family with more patience, more grace, and more joy.
The Example We Set for Our Children
Our children are always watching.
They’re learning from us what adulthood looks like.
If they only see us exhausted, overwhelmed, and running on empty, what does that teach them about life?
But if they see a mother who takes time to breathe…
who laughs…
who nurtures friendships…
who spends time with God…
who still has pieces of her own life…
They learn something powerful.
They learn that caring for others and caring for yourself can exist at the same time.
Making Room for Yourself
For some moms, making yourself a priority might look big.
For others, it might be small.
Maybe it’s a workout.
Maybe it’s reading a book.
Maybe it’s sitting quietly with coffee before the house wakes up.
Maybe it’s a walk.
Maybe it’s five minutes of prayer and quiet.
It doesn’t have to be glamorous.
It just has to exist.
Because motherhood was never meant to erase the woman God created you to be.
The Truth I’m Learning
I am August’s and Sawyer’s mother.
But that is not the only thing I am.
I’m a wife.
A believer.
A friend.
A woman with dreams, interests, and a life that still matters too.
And the more I learn to care for the person God created me to be, the better mother I become.
Not because I’m doing more.
But because I’m finally learning that loving my children and valuing myself were never meant to compete.
They were always meant to coexist.
August, Always 