By Sally Tabart Entertainment 08.05.2026

“I Thought I’d Lose Myself in Motherhood – Here's What Actually Changed (and What Didn’t)”

Motherhood is transformative, but not always in the ways we might fear. Writer Sally Tabart reflects on the parts of being a mum no one prepares you for.

I was never someone who inherently knew they wanted to be a mum. In my twenties and early thirties, life was oriented around building my career (and, let’s be real, hedonist pursuits of exotic beaches and loud dance floors). My work achievements were the landmarks I used to navigate my goals, hopes, dreams, creativity, and plans for the future.

Even though I was in a long-term relationship with someone I loved, I couldn’t quite understand how people just decided, one random day, to become a mum and commit to it for the rest of their lives. It felt like a particularly bitter pill to swallow: to have worked so hard for so long, only to press pause just as my career felt like it was getting somewhere. I vividly remember talking to my sister-in-law’s mum at her baby shower, champagne in hand, about how unfair it all felt: the inconvenient collision of work ambition and motherhood for a woman in her mid-thirties (probably not the best baby shower chat, in hindsight). I felt nauseous on the drive home.

As it turns out, I was already pregnant.

Most of what I’d heard about motherhood up until that point had scared me. I wanted to feel excited, to feel hopeful – and I was – but it also felt like all I’d absorbed were harrowing warnings about how motherhood reduces women to fragments of themselves. Fractured by broken sleep, baby talk, and breastfeeding struggles. That you wouldn’t even recognise yourself on the other side. It’s hard to keep hearing that motherhood will change you when the unspoken implication is that it will be for the worse. What are you supposed to do with that?

When my daughter arrived, I must admit I was a little horrified by just how hard those first weeks were, both physically and emotionally. Did I worry I might have fucked up my life? Sometimes. I’d see baby announcements captioned, “Best month of our lives!” or “We are so in love!” and think… I’ve had better months. And I miss my husband.

But I was also surprised to find that I still felt like myself. This version of me cried a lot, sure, but I was still in there. I still cared about all the same things. I just cared about her more.

Almost 18 months on, I’m very happy to report that I did not f*ck up my life. Not even close. Once I found a good rhythm with my psychologist, started taking SSRIs (something I probably should have done long ago), and Lila aged out of the newborn phase, things improved dramatically. Yes, motherhood has changed me, but not in the ways I feared. In many ways, it’s changed me for the better. It’s even made parts of my life feel easier.

There’s no question I have less time (that part is unavoidable), and even the best-laid plans can be derailed by teething or a sudden sleep regression. But the tectonic shift in my life has brought my priorities into sharp focus, and I’ve become far more intentional with the time I do have.

Experiencing life so vividly – watching myself care for my daughter – has given me a sense of clarity and confidence I hadn’t been able to find before. And I’m not sure that side of motherhood gets the airtime it deserves.

Of course, it hasn’t always looked the way I hoped. There were many naps that ended too early, mornings that started even earlier, and a particularly gruelling six months (!!) when Lila screamed bloody murder every time we went anywhere in the car or pram, while it seemed like every other baby drifted off peacefully. It made me rage. It made me cry. But those moments were fleeting, and over time they’ve softened into something else: acceptance. I’ve learned to let go of perfectionism. The steep curve of motherhood has brought me to my knees at times, but it has also been my greatest gift and a privilege I don’t take lightly. And honestly, it was sometimes a relief not to think so much about myself.

Now that I’m acutely aware of time as my most precious resource, both in my career and with Lila, I feel deeply motivated to create. I realised quickly after returning to work that a 9–5 no longer fits the way I want to live or the ambitions I have for myself. Motherhood hasn’t taken away my desire to build something of my own. If anything, it sharpened it.

It’s impossible to talk about motherhood in absolutes. What’s true for one person can look completely different for another, especially in parenthood. There are so many factors that shape each baby, each journey, each experience, and I can only speak from mine. Hard moments come at different times for everyone, and I don’t want to diminish the sense of loss or identity shift that motherhood can bring. But something I’ve come to understand is that just because something is hard doesn’t mean it’s bad. And while moving toward the hard parts can feel daunting, they sit right alongside a kind of joy and fulfilment that’s difficult to fully put into words.

I didn’t lose myself in motherhood. I reshaped myself. What I worried would diminish me has instead clarified what matters, changed how I use my time, and made me more certain, not less, about who I am and what I want.