The Beauty of Becoming: How Motherhood Redefines Your Sense of Self

On the transformative nature of motherhood and how it reshapes personal identity.

Motherhood changes everything—not just the day-to-day, but the very core of who we are. It challenges the notion of returning to who we once were and invites us into a process of becoming someone entirely new. Three years ago, I began to wrestle with this idea…

“The word ‘recovery’ has never worked for me. Despite the magnetism and power of language, this word has always felt inadequate and incomplete. ‘Recovery’ denotes a return in one way or another, but a return is not always possible or even desired.

I’ve felt this in many arenas, many spheres of my world—one of the most notable being motherhood. In our society, there is an extraordinary amount of pressure placed on a woman to return to her pre-baby self. Whether the focus is on her body, her personality, her mood, her relationships, her sexuality, her hobbies, her work, or her schedule…the expectation is the same.

‘Be who you were before, and all will be well again.’

I’ve come to understand—and firmly believe—that as long as we cling to this belief about ourselves, we remain trapped: stifled, unfulfilled, anxious and depressed. Not because we are undeserving of great peace, deep rest, pleasure, or sovereignty—or any of the ideals we associate with our younger, maiden selves—but because there is no place to which to return. There is no way back to what no longer exists.

The moment we crossed the threshold into motherhood, we underwent a fiery initiation. Our past selves burned away in the flames. Striving and stretching to step back into that old world only leads to suffocation from the smoke, locking us into cycles of suffering and perpetually falling short.

One of life’s many miracles unfolds when we allow ourselves to be born anew, alongside our child. The rebirth is immediate, the growing pains are inevitable. But so, too, is the transformation. In time, we realize that returning to or recovering our maiden selves is not only impossible but not at all our one, true desire. For it would mean forfeiting the deep love, meaning, and connection that now saturates every minute, every hour.

Our culture has yet to adopt a warm welcome for the permanently changed woman, and that’s okay. It shouldn’t detour us from embracing and embodying this change anyways. There is immense joy, awe, reverence, and passion here.

So continue to turn the page. Continue to move forward in your story. Learn about your precious self as you learn about your precious child. Hold it all—hold everything—but with a loose grip. Be here, fully present, and know this: you are only just arriving.”

Since we last spoke, I’ve given birth to my son, and our family has grown from three to four. His birth was a cleansing experience, wiping away the remnants of fear and pain still etched into my body after birthing my daughter. It was also, unavoidably, an initiation into yet another layer of motherhood and personhood. During pregnancy, I could sense this shift approaching—this evolution or revolution into a new sense of self.

As someone who has learned to rest easy in seasons of uncertainty, I resisted the urge to cling to the old and rush headlong into the new. Instead, I planted myself right into the mysterious middle and prayed. Often. I asked God to show me small slivers of the woman I was becoming and to open my eyes, my ears, and my heart to receive His guidance with grace.

While I couldn’t yet envision the next version of myself—as a mom of two and whatever else life had in store—I trusted that she and I would meet eventually. I reminded myself, again and again, that crossing the bridge was just as important (if not more so) than the arriving on the other side. So, I prepared myself with openness and and released all expectations, holding onto only one certainty: change.

Now, nearly eight weeks postpartum with my son, I’m convinced that my peace (and state) of mind are directly rooted in this perspective. By forecasting nothing but change, I’ve been able to embrace the reality that seemingly everything has shifted.

Identity is the amalgamation of our memories, experiences, relationships, beliefs and values. It exists at the intersection of content and context; content being the substance of who we are as individuals and what we carry within us, and context being the current timestamp and chapter in life. There is an undeniable interplay between our inner and outer worlds, and who we are is an outgrowth of both.

Contrary to what many of us believe in our teenage years or early adulthood, identity is not a fixed construct. It is not something we can permanently tether ourselves to, nor is it a reliable foundation for projecting into the future. Nevertheless, we do—again and again—until life’s inherent unpredictability teaches us otherwise. We learn that our tight grip lies at the heart of our neurosis, anxiety, and suffering.

As a new mom of two, I’ve been gifted a unique perspective through experience—not by comparing my postpartum journey to that of other mothers, but by reflecting on my own first season. I have such a distinct vantage point now, and it’s offering remarkable clarity. The excerpt above, written two years ago, reflects lessons it took me eighteen months to grasp after giving birth to my daughter—and even longer to fully accept, integrate, and embody.

Thankfully, the lesson stayed with me. As a postpartum mom of two, I didn’t resist change; I anticipated it. Not with fear or hesitation, but with a sense of eagerness and wholehearted faith—with wide-eyed wonder and a healthy respect for the chaos to come. During my forty weeks of pregnancy, I intentionally leaned into this transition, gradually releasing my pre-pregnant identity and embracing a very literal “pregnant pause.”

I could feel the content of who I was shifting—my priorities, beliefs, and orientation toward life—as the context of my world evolved—my relationships, roles, and responsibilities. I became a completely different woman as a mom of one, distinct from who I was before motherhood. Now, as a mom of two, I find myself transformed yet again.

Though my journey is rooted in motherhood, the process of becoming is universal. Whether you’re navigating a career change, a significant relationship shift, or simply evolving through the seasons of life, the invitation remains the same: to honor the dynamic nature of who you are and embrace the person you’re becoming. Transformation isn’t exclusive to parenthood—it is a hallmark of being alive, of growing, and of meeting life’s challenges with courage and grace.

While much remains to be discovered about the woman I’m becoming, I am certain that she will lead me to greater fulfillment and contentment than any attempt to recover fragments of who I once was. The way we choose to frame this is critical—not just for our peace and acceptance, but for our ability to remain authentic; when who we’ve been is morphing into who we are now and who we will ultimately be tomorrow. After all, authenticity requires honoring the fluidity of self.

Instead of loss, there is a redistribution of qualities—meaningful and vital attributes. Trying to go back would mean forfeiting the gifts we stand to gain through this growth. It would also amount to an unspoken, yet undeniable, lie—a distortion of truth and a rejection of the present moment. Our lives call for full-bodied authenticity: the courage to be wholly and unapologetically ourselves. And authenticity is not static. It is dynamic: moving forward with us, evolving alongside us, and taking shape within us.

Authenticity is not a destination but a process—a way of being. It is the choice, in every moment, to be both true and truthful. And, as if by universal law, our lives unfold and expand accordingly. On the other hand, confining ourselves to one fixed identity or box of certainty diminishes our connection to the present moment and narrows the scope of future possibilities.

There’s a trend circulating on Instagram where parents say something like, “I’ll get back to before, but I’ll never get back to right now.” Every time I see it, it stirs something deep within me. My soul squirms and my mind launches into a litany of interrogating questions, like:

“Do you believe you’ll be the same person when your children are grown as you were before you became a parent? Won’t you have transformed entirely by then? Won’t you be in yet another chapter of your life, holding an identity that reflects who you’ve become, not who you once were? What is there to get back? Isn’t this the adventure of your lifetime? Does parenthood simply end one day? And what of legacy? Why would you want to return? Can you even go back?”

Yes, these parents seem to understand the importance of the early years with their children—but does that importance fade? Today, they are parents of toddlers. One day, they will be parents of adults, God willing. The truth they fail to see is that there is no way back, no identity waiting to be recovered. Life only moves in one direction: forward. There is far more to be gained by asking, “Who can I become in this moment? Who must I be tomorrow?” than by longing for the illusion of yesteryears.

There is nothing lost in the process of becoming—on the contrary, there is only gain. To become is a privilege. It means we are alive, we are noticing, and we are holding with every new season what life is offering us.

I’ll leave you with this:

I am happier now than I’ve ever been. Joy seeps into my soul like honey, rich and sweet, filling me with deep fulfillment and contentment. I cherish who I am, these beautiful children I’ve created, and the life we share together. There is no shadow of anxiety, no lingering ache of depression, because I entered this season, as a new mom of two, without longing to reclaim a younger version of myself.

If I were granted the wish to recover the woman I was before motherhood, I would wave it away without hesitation. I am different now, and it’s a permanent transformation. My identity is rooted in the present yet ever-unfolding. When I look in the mirror, I see a woman I deeply admire. I adore her reflection—with tired eyes, folded skin, and calloused hands. And I am endlessly curious about the next woman; infinitely more beautiful, wise, and complex than I could have imagined as a younger girl.

I am not who I was five, ten, or fifteen years ago, and I thank God for that every single day. I have become, and I am still becoming. It is nothing short of a miraculous journey—meaningful in every moment, a treasure with every twist. This is motherhood.