Finding Myself in the Quiet: The Privilege and Paradox of Motherhood

There is a sacred stillness I’ve always loved about the early morning hours when I find myself up before the tiny footsteps, before the kitchen hums to life, before the day unfurls its long list of needs. Setting the heart of our family home for the day ahead is an important ritual in this time - filing it with the sound of birdsong, incense burning and flooding the space with soft light before it welcomes the children for the morning rush. It’s often in these moments of stillness that I remember who I am, who I was before motherhood, and how different the person looking back at me in the mirror is now.

As a yoga teacher, I’ve spent years guiding others toward presence, helping them peel away layers of tension to reconnect with their centre. But nothing has challenged my own sense of self quite like becoming a mother. 

Motherhood can be a full-body exhale into love, but it can also feel like drowning in a sea of tasks that no one sees. The dishes, the laundry, the crumbs that multiply at a speed faster than that of sound. The endless snacks. My coffee is always cold. The emotional labor that sits alongside the physical. Answering to “Mummy” so many times I’ve forgotten I have a name, too. Holding someone’s hands for days on end every time they use the ‘big’ potty so they aren’t scared. The me who once taught sunrise flows and nurtured my own soul so carefully has at times disappeared under piles of laundry and the fog of fatigue.

I’ve had moments where I felt invisible. I’ve questioned whether my identity was as a simple snack dispenser, peacekeeper, and finder of lost stuffed animals. I’ve often wondered if all my intellect, all my drive, has simply disappeared. And, is that how I’m seen by the outside world? The contrast between the calm, centered teacher I used to be and the overwhelmed mother I've sometimes felt I’ve become has been painful at times.

And yet I know just how deeply privileged I am.

It is a privilege to be home with my children. To witness their firsts. To know the rhythm of their days, their moods, their little quirks. To sit with them in the tantrums and put band-aids on all their little grazes - both physical and emotional. What a privilege it is to get to choose presence over performance. Many mothers don’t have this choice. Many would trade places with me in a heartbeat. I do my best to hold that truth close and with deep respect.

But acknowledging the privilege doesn’t erase the struggle. They coexist. This is the paradox of motherhood in the early years at home with children: holding space for immense gratitude and, simultaneously, grieving the loss of a former self.

Yoga taught me that identity isn’t static. It breathes, it develops. Who we are is not fixed—it expands, contracts, evolves. And so, I’ve started to gently invite myself back into my own life, even in small ways.

I unroll my mat, even if it’s just for ten minutes with my twins as they practice their down dog. I breathe deeply as we navigate all the big emotions together. I take walks to the sound of birdsong or piano over podcasts. And I’ve started writing again, sharing my thoughts and insights in moments between. Enjoying the simplicity of making golden milk, making muffins, exploring my new Kefir hobby and taking care of my body. I do believe our children do as we do, and have tried to let my children see me being myself—not just doing for them - more often.

Motherhood isn’t the erasure of identity—it’s an initiation into a new one. One that includes the woman who knows how to hold chaos with grace. One who teaches by example that self-care is not selfish. One who can be present for others without abandoning herself.

To every mother who feels like she’s lost herself: I see you. You are not gone. You are worthy. You are becoming. And the new you will be a version of yourself beyond your wildest dreams.

And in the quiet moments—before the cereal spills and the questions begin—come back to your breath. Come back to your body. Come back to you.

Namaste,

From one mama on the mat to another.