Danika Desforges-Bell, MSc Ps ed., CMHP
Co-clinic Director of C’est La Vie Wellness and Mental Health Counsellor & Parenting/Behavioural Consultant
What No One Tells You About Becoming a Parent: You Can Miss Them and Still Need You
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to become a parent—and, perhaps more specifically, what it means to slowly find your way back to yourself.
Over the past few months, I’ve had to travel for weddings and for work. And for the first time since having my twins, now three, I’ve noticed something that feels both wonderful and a little surprising:
It’s easier to step away.
Not easy. But easier.
Part of that is practical. I’m no longer breastfeeding, so physically, I can be away in a way I simply couldn’t be in those early years.
But there’s something else that has changed too.
I trust my circle.
I trust the people who care for my children. I trust that they know them, love them, and will comfort them when I’m not there. I trust that my kids can have meaningful, joyful experiences without me in the room.
And, perhaps most importantly, I trust myself a little more too.
I’ve learned that I can hold two very true things at once:
I love and miss my children deeply—and I am also really happy to be on my own.
I can miss them while sitting at a wedding with a glass of wine.
I can think about them while travelling for work and still enjoy having uninterrupted time to myself.
I can be excited to see them again and also really enjoy a quiet morning with my husband.
For a long time, I think I believed those feelings had to compete with one another.
They don’t.
The grief of becoming a parent
We talk a lot about how much you gain when you become a parent.
And, of course, you gain something enormous.
But there are losses too.
You lose spontaneity.
You lose some freedom.
Your relationship changes.
Your body changes.
Your routines change.
Your career may change.
And for the birthing parent, particularly when you are the parent who takes parental leave, there can be a profound loss of identity and independence.
You go from having a life structured around your own needs, work, relationships and interests to spending much of your day responding to someone else’s needs.
Someone who needs you to eat.
To sleep.
To regulate.
To comfort.
To carry.
To be there.
And when you’re home on parental leave, it can be surprisingly lonely.
There can be long stretches without adult conversation. Your partner leaves for work. Your days can start to blur together. You may spend hours caring for someone else while wondering when you last had a moment that felt entirely like you.
And because you’re “off work,” there can be an assumption that you’re somehow supposed to be enjoying all of it.
But parental leave isn’t a vacation.
It’s a profound life transition.
You don’t just become a parent. You become someone new.
This is part of what we mean when we talk about matrescence—the psychological, emotional, physical and relational transition into motherhood.
We tend to talk about motherhood as though you’re simply adding another role to the person you already are.
But sometimes it feels more like your identity has been completely rearranged.
You are still a partner, friend, professional, daughter, sister, creative, athlete, or whatever else made up your identity before children.
But suddenly, you’re also someone’s mother.
And for a while, that role can take up almost all of the available space.
There can be grief in that.
There can also be guilt about the grief.
Because how can you possibly miss your old life when you love your baby so much?
But that’s the thing:
You can.
You can be grateful and overwhelmed.
You can love motherhood and miss parts of your life before children.
You can want more time with your baby and desperately need time away.
You can miss your children and still be relieved when someone else takes over.
You can love your family deeply and still want an afternoon where nobody needs anything from you.
These aren’t contradictions.
They’re two truths existing at the same time.
Maybe the goal isn’t finding your old self
I think sometimes we put too much pressure on ourselves to “get back” to who we were before having children.
But maybe that’s not the goal.
Maybe becoming a parent is less about finding your old self and more about getting to know the person you are becoming.
Some parts of who you were may come back.
Some may change.
Some may become even more important.
And some new parts of you may emerge that you couldn’t have anticipated.
At three, my twins are becoming increasingly independent. And with that comes a little more space for me to rediscover the parts of myself that got quieter in those early years.
I’m learning that stepping away doesn’t make me less of a mother.
Enjoying my own life doesn’t mean I love my children any less.
And trusting other people to care for them isn’t a failure of my motherhood—it’s part of building a village.
Maybe this is one of the quieter gifts of the years that come after those intense early months: realizing that you can love your children fiercely without needing to be physically present every minute.
And perhaps, in finding that space again, we don’t lose ourselves.
Maybe we start to find ourselves in a new way.
If you’re somewhere in the thick of those early years and wondering where you went, I hope you know this:
You haven’t disappeared.
You’re still there.
And you don’t have to feel guilty for wanting to find your way back to yourself.
Danika Desforges-Bell, MSc Ps ed., CMHP
