Navigating Motherhood: Embracing Love, Laughing at WTF Moments, and Ditching the Labels

Okay, so here's the deal... Motherhood? Never saw it coming. Like, never. My life plan, back when I was rocking butterfly clips and dreaming big, involved marrying young (hello, six kids!), becoming a famous writer (still waiting on that bestseller, universe!), and basically living a drama-free existence. Motherhood? Not in the brochure.

Honestly, I was a bit of a "me" person. Loved my fancy dinners, those "oops, booked a spontaneous trip to Playa del Carmen" moments, and let's not even talk about my obsession with overpriced skincare that probably doesn't even work. The thought of trading all that for a tiny human who'd be, like, demanding my attention 24/7? Hard. Freaking. Pass. I was all about my independence and my freedom, and ain't nobody gonna take that away just because society had a "mom memo" I apparently missed.

In my twenties, marriage felt like a distant planet, and divorce? Well, let's just say it was always in the back of my mind as a "just in case" kinda thing. (Sorry if that sounds cynical, but hey, keeping it real!) Kids? Even less appealing. Being permanently DNA-linked to someone? Nope, nope, and more nope.

And then BAM! Enter my husband. Suddenly, that whole "divorce is my safety net" thought just...poof! Vanished. Turns out, I actually liked the guy. Like, enough to stick around. Enough to be like, "Okay, fine, maybe this whole marriage thing isn't a life sentence after all." We had a blast, dreamed up all sorts of crazy stuff together, and built a life that just felt...right.

Fast forward a few years of wedded bliss (mostly bliss, with the occasional eye-roll contest, let's be honest), and we decided to, you know, try. And wouldn't you know it? We created a whole human! Like, a real, live, tiny person who now calls me "Mom." Surreal, right?

Now, listen. I love my daughter with every fiber of my being. She's smart as a whip, has a heart of gold, is hilariously funny, and has brought a level of love into my life that I didn't even know existed in the universe. But here's the thing nobody really shouts from the rooftops: motherhood isn't all sunshine and rainbows and perfectly curated Instagram feeds. There's a whole other side to it. The side where you don't just gain this incredible love, you also...lose stuff.

I lost a big chunk of my freedom. Spontaneity became a distant memory. Opportunities? Some definitely took a detour. And let's be real, some days I felt like I was starring in my own personal "Mommy Dearest" sequel, minus the wire hangers (mostly!). And for way too long, I felt this ridiculous guilt for even thinking those things. Because moms are supposed to be these glowing, eternally grateful, selfless beings, right? We're supposed to be completely fulfilled by motherhood alone. Newsflash: that's a load of mom-bologna!

The pressure to love every single second of motherhood is insane and so isolating. Nobody talks about how suffocating it can feel to be shoved into this "perfect mom" box while secretly missing the days when you could, you know, pee alone. You're not supposed to admit you miss your old life. If you even whisper it, people look at you like you've just committed the ultimate parenting sin. It's like there's this unspoken rule: once you pop out a kid, your right to complain or even acknowledge your own needs and desires gets revoked. Seriously? Mom's the word...and apparently, that word is "suffer in silence."

And you know what else used to drive me nuts? This whole idea that a woman's success was measured by whether or not she became a mother. It didn't matter if you had a wall full of degrees, climbed the corporate ladder like a boss, or were basically a superhero in everyday life – if you didn't have a baby, you were somehow...incomplete. People pitied you. They'd whisper those oh-so-helpful gems like, "She focused too much on work and now it's too late" or "Poor thing, never got to experience motherhood." Ugh. I hated that. Hated the idea that my worth as a woman could be boiled down to my reproductive capabilities. Like, I could conquer the world, but still not be "whole" unless I had a kid? Seriously?!

So, when I finally did have a baby, I thought, "Okay, this is it. Now I'll feel complete." Spoiler alert: didn't happen. Sure, my heart exploded with love for my daughter, but a part of me still felt...off. Like I'd traded in pieces of myself for this new "Mom" identity and wasn't quite sure how to get my old Fabi back.

Motherhood is not the ultimate validation of womanhood. It's one path, a beautiful and crazy one, but definitely not the only path. And while I adore my daughter more than words can say and wouldn't trade her for anything in this universe, I still refuse to let motherhood be my sole definition. I'm still me. I'm still Fabi. I still have dreams, ambitions, and a personality that exists way beyond wiping noses and packing lunches. I just happen to also be a mom. It's like adding a new, amazing flavor to the recipe of my life, not becoming a whole new dish entirely.

And as we head into Mother's Day, I just want to throw this out there: No matter how you became a mother – whether it was through birth, adoption, marriage (hello, bonus kids!), or just a whole lotta love – you are SO enough.

It doesn't matter if you're the Pinterest-perfect crafty mom, the juggling-a-million-things working mom, the quiet observer mom, the loud-and-proud mom, or the mom who's still figuring out which end is up (spoiler alert: that's all of us, all the time).

Your motherhood is valid because you are. You don't owe anyone an explanation or a performance. You don't have to squeeze yourself into some curated Instagram mold. You just have to be you.

Motherhood looks different on every single woman, and that's exactly how it should be. It's like a fingerprint – unique and beautiful in its own way.

Sometimes I think back to those early days when I was trying to navigate the messy, complicated terrain of who I was before and who I was becoming. It wasn't pretty, but it was real. And I've learned this: I don't have to choose between being an amazing mom and being myself. I can be both. It's okay to love my kid fiercely and still miss the days of spontaneous adventures. It's okay to be overflowing with gratitude and also feel a little twinge of "what if?" sometimes. It's all part of the mom-boogie.

So tell me, girlfriend – am I totally out to lunch here, or does any of this resonate with you?

If you're a mom who's ever missed her old life, wrestled with that sneaky mom guilt, or just wants to throw her hands up and say, "Motherhood is a beautiful mess, and it's mine" – I see you.

I'd love to hear your story. What has motherhood looked like for you? The amazing highs, the "I need a nap and possibly a therapist" lows, and all the wonderfully weird in-between moments.

Drop a comment, slide into my DMs – let's get real about this whole motherhood gig. No labels, no judgment. Just us, sharing our stories and maybe a virtual glass of wine (or three!). Cheers to all the moms out there, in all their glorious, imperfect forms! ❤️

Love,

- Fabi