In the first six months, I watched the furniture of my former self get sold off piece by piece. First went the ability to read a book for more than three consecutive minutes. Auctioned. Then went the memory of what it felt like to be bored—that luxurious, lazy Saturday afternoon boredom. Gone. Finally, the big items: my professional ambition, my sense of humor about my own body, and the quiet belief that I was fundamentally in control of my life.
I was wrong. Motherhood isn’t an addition. It’s a liquidation. mutha magazine author z
That’s the secret they put in the fine print. The postpartum period isn’t just sleep deprivation. It’s a hostile takeover of your psyche. You become a vessel for someone else’s needs so completely that when someone asks, “And how are you doing?” you have to pause for ten seconds to remember if you’re a person who has preferences. In the first six months, I watched the
Before I had my daughter, I thought motherhood was an addition. You add a baby to your life, like a new wing onto a house. You still have the old rooms—your career, your marriage, your ability to finish a cup of coffee—they just have a new hallway connecting them. Then went the memory of what it felt
And I am slowly, painstakingly, buying back a few pieces of my old furniture. I read one chapter of a book last week. I wore jeans with a zipper for three hours. It felt like armor.
Mutha Magazine is a publication focused on the complexities of motherhood—the raw, unfiltered, funny, painful, and real experiences that often get left out of the glossy parenting magazines.
I am still in the goo phase, honestly. But I am learning that the liquidation sale isn't a loss. It's a trade. I traded the ability to sleep in for the ability to catch my daughter’s smile at 6 AM—that gummy, uncoordinated, miraculous thing. I traded the quiet of my own mind for the noise of a tiny person learning to laugh.