Becoming a mom was insane. It felt like I stepped into a completely different reality. It was like waking up inside a world I didn’t recognize anymore. It’s strange now to think about the carefree, freedom filled life I knew before.
I’ve been an adult for a long time.
I moved out young.
I started working young.
I got married too young and divorced young.
My twenties were full. Full of new places, leases, adventures. Since I was 21, I’ve lived in eight different cities in Los Angeles. I lived many lives. I knew adulthood: bills, routines, debt, exercise, love, heartbreak.
But nothing. NOTHING. Prepares you for this.
There’s a scene in The Matrix where Neo wakes up covered in gunk, suspended in those pods, suddenly aware of a truth he didn’t know existed. That’s what postpartum felt like to me. The blood. The healing. The body pain. The tears. The mourning. The shock of it all.
Waking up inside a new reality.
Everything feels scarier now than it ever did before. The truth of the world I brought my baby into feels closer. The fear and anxiety. Even guilt shows up in ways I didn’t expect.
I always knew bad things happened. I was aware of evil. But now it feels like everything is right there, within reach. Louder and sharper.
My home life. My outings. Even grocery shopping. Standing in a parking lot alone with my baby can feel terrifying. I used to be out all the time, fearless. Now fear lives closer to the surface.
I remember seeing pregnant women before and thinking they looked so cute. So glowing. So sweet with a tiny life growing inside them. Now when I see women late in pregnancy, my heart softens differently. I know their pelvis hurts. Their joints ache. Their bodies are carrying more than we ever talk about. I was there. But I didn’t know at the time my body was preparing me to become someone entirely new.
The disconnection from my old life feels big.
The clothes I wear.
The way I move through the world.
The tired version of me who doesn’t care about nails or shopping or being seen.
So much has lost its appeal.
All I crave now is cleanliness, comfort, and safety.
I think about future me sometimes. I picture her skinnier, glowing, freshly washed hair, makeup done just because. And I hope to meet her again one day.
But I also know this version of me. The one who woke up from the pod, who sees the world differently now.
Now in my new reality, I can’t imagine a world where I don’t have this sweet baby beside me. The love he gives me. The comfort and joy I get to give him. The giggles, the snuggles. It feels strange to remember a life where none of that existed.
As intense and overwhelming as the experience was, I can’t imagine not becoming a mother. There’s a moment now where it hits me. This is how we all get here? This is what love actually feels like? This is the strength women are born carrying?!
Becoming a mother felt like taking the red pill. I didn’t know it would cost me the version of myself that was young, carefree, and reckless. But I gained strength I didn’t know I had. And it shaped me into someone stronger, more present, and more loving than I ever was before.
The person I had to become for my baby. And I wouldn’t trade her for anything.