What I wish I knew before becoming a mother
The highest highs, the lowest lows, and everything I wish someone had told me before becoming a mother.
My son is two and a half years old. Some would say I have a long way to go, which feels strange considering I have found these two and a half years to be as long, glorious, and unrelenting as a lifetime. I've learnt more about myself in these two and a half years than I probably did in my 34 years of life before. It has transformed my life in more ways than I could have imagined.
But honestly, before deciding to go through with my very unexpected pregnancy and committing to the decision of being a mom, I didn't know much about what to expect from this journey. So I sat with this question and put down what I wish I could tell others who might be thinking about becoming parents or are on this journey too.
Here’s what I wish I knew before becoming a mother:
1. You will lose the identity you worked so hard to build… in an instant.
The moment your child is born is also the moment you lose your hard-earned identity that you spent years constructing layer by layer, choice by choice and habit by habit. My career came to a standstill, my body, my mental and emotional health, my needs, my preferences… it all changed in that one instant. And it was hard to come to terms with that. HOWEVER (and I put this in caps because it’s important), if you choose to lean into what you discover about yourself as a mother, you can build an identity that’s stronger and a truer representation of you. I had to acknowledge my lack of discipline, my impulsiveness, bad habits and actively work through them to now start building a version of myself that I’m starting to love.
2. Your fitness (or lack thereof) will catch up with you.
I was shocked by how physical this journey is. And how much your past choices will affect how you parent especially in the early days. I hadn’t taken care of my fitness before or through pregnancy. And I struggled. Postpartum is demanding with the sleepless nights, the carrying, the feeding, the postural strain, the hormonal shifts. If you are fit, it’ll support you. But, like me, if you are not, it will break you.
I understand now why people say you should have kids young. It's not just about timelines, it’s really about energy and stamina. So please, even if it’s just a small walk or 20 minutes on the treadmill you can manage… DO IT!
3. Postpartum can be incredibly lonely.
I moved cities just before I gave birth… from our beloved Goa where our surroundings were beaches and lush greenery and a community of friends that we could fall back on to Delhi where there’s peak pollution, excessive commercialization and chaos. I was surrounded by family, yes, but I felt more alone than ever. I craved deep conversations, soft company, someone to just get it. I ended up surviving on WhatsApp chats with cousins, late-night Googling, and threads from other mothers who had been through the same. I don’t think we talk enough about how isolating this time can be, or how much we need each other.
4. Your relationship will be tested.
There’s a whole genre of writing about how much you start to hate your husband after a baby comes. And I kind of get where that comes from.
I was the one who had to pause my career. I was the one physically needed by my child. I was the one who couldn’t leave the house when my husband had work trips, even overnight ones. I was the one who couldn’t go out with my friends or disappear into a day of freedom, because I was the milk. I was the body. I was the default parent. And over time, it made me resent everything.
Even now, I don’t fully understand why the mental load still falls so heavily on women. Maybe we’re wired that way. Maybe society never evolved. Maybe both. But it’s real, and in the beginning, it felt impossible.
To be fair, my husband was incredible through postpartum and I would love to explore the father’s point of view separately someday. But we’re evolving. And what matters most is we didn’t give up. Our relationship definitely took a back seat in the beginning, but now we’re slowly rebuilding. We’re learning how to make time for each other again, how to be honest, how to name things before they fester. And he’s becoming a version of himself I’m really proud of… a hands-on, thoughtful father.
5. The guilt is unrelenting.
There’s this thing no one talks about enough. It’s not just “mom guilt.” It’s this constant, relentless cycle that loops in your head all day, every day.
I want to play with my child all day… but I get overstimulated within minutes and then feel terrible for needing space. I want to work because I genuinely love working, and I know it helps give my child a better life. But then I feel like I’m missing out on the very life I’m trying to build for. I want a nanny, because I need a break. But then I catch myself feeling jealous… jealous that she gets to be with my child more than I do.
I want to be fully present… but I also want to be ambitious, creative, successful.
It’s endless. It never stops. At any given time, I’m torn between at least two things.
And honestly, the only way to navigate through it is to build discipline, to learn to compartmentalize, to reason with myself, and to constantly remind myself of the bigger picture.
And most of all, I’ve had to redefine what “good parenting” looks like. I’ve had to shift from quantity to quality. I may not be with my child every single minute, but when I am, I try to be there… really there.
6. You can never win as a mother.
From the moment you get pregnant, there are opinions about everything. What you eat, how you move, what you feel. Whatever you choose, it will not be the right choice.
If you care too much, you’re obsessed.
If you let go a little, you’re careless.
If you’re ambitious, you’re selfish.
If you’re self-sacrificing, you’ve given up.
It’s neverending!
And what makes it harder is how casually people make these comments. Things like—Oh, you’re so obsessed with your child—when I’m simply making thoughtful decisions about what food to put on the table or what activities he’ll do. Or offhanded remarks like you’re not looking so fresh these days, without understanding the sleepless nights, the decision fatigue, the constant invisible work that fills every day.
What I’ve had to learn is that parenting isn’t about getting it right. You’re not supposed to know everything. You’re learning at the same time your child is learning. There is no manual.
So you do your best. You focus on what you believe is right for your child. Tune out the noise. Don’t overshare. And don’t overconsume.
7. The joy and love you receive will transform you.
My son loves me in all of my too-much glory. He doesn’t care how messy I am or how often I overthink things. He just sees me. And that kind of unconditional love? It fills every single old crack I’ve carried through my life.
There’s so much joy in the ordinary now. Dancing together in the kitchen. Watching him light up when he spots an aeroplane. Hearing him say “mama is here” and light up the moment I enter a room. After a long, rough day, one snuggle or laugh from him somehow makes it worth it.
I feel so grounded in a way I’ve never felt before. This little family we’ve built—it’s complete. I don’t feel like I’m constantly searching for the next thing, the next person, the next plan. I feel content in my skin and in this life in a way that makes me really excited.
And honestly? As cheesy as it sounds, I think I have found my best friend for life. My son is so much of me, and so much of my husband, and I can’t wait to introduce him to the world.
I hope this made you feel something.
I’d love to hear in the comments—what have you learned in your motherhood journey? Or did any of these surprise you?
This was so real and quietly devastating in the best way. That part about grieving your former self, even when you love your children deeply… hit me hard. No one prepares you for that. This is the things most of us only whisper to ourselves.