If you’ve ever stood at the sink rinsing a sippy cup while someone yells, “MOMMMMM!” from a room you just cleaned… if you’ve reheated your coffee so many times you’re not sure if it’s coffee or just ✨warm brown vibes✨… if you’ve looked in the mirror and thought, “I don’t even know who I am right now.” Can we sit together for a minute or two?
Because motherhood has a sneaky way of turning you into a function.
You become the finder of lost shoes, the keeper of snack inventories, the emotional support human, the calendar, the nurse, the chef, the conflict mediator, the bedtime-story voice actor, the “please don’t lick the cart” enforcer… and somewhere in the swirl of needs, noise, and invisible labor, you can start to feel… blurry.
And here’s what I want to say gently but clearly:
You are still in there.
And your value didn’t evaporate when you started carrying everyone else.
Not when you haven’t had a “real conversation” in days. Not when your house is loud and your thoughts feel scrambled and you can’t remember what you walked into the kitchen for (again). Not when you’re doing your best, and it still doesn’t feel like enough.
You get to take up space…even now.
Your Value Isn’t Measured by How Productive You are Today
Let’s name the thing that so many moms carry quietly: the feeling that your worth is tied to what you accomplish.
If the laundry is done, you feel like a good mom.
If the kids are fed something green, you feel like a good mom.
If you didn’t yell (or didn’t cry in the pantry), you feel like a good mom.
But when the house is messy, and someone is upset, and you’re behind on everything… that constant voice that shows up: I’m failing. I’m not enough.
That voice is loud (ask me how I know), but it’s not telling the truth.
Your value exists whether or not anyone notices it or thanks you for it. Whether or not anyone praises you.
Whether or not you “prove” it today.
You are someone with value that exists whether or not others can see it or comment on it or judge it. Someone with power and a vital role to play. Someone who deserves support, recognition for your work, and an equal chance to take up space in the sphere you belong in.
And for the mama who feels invisible? The one who is doing ten thousand tiny things that keep a home running?
God sees the unseen. The ordinary is not overlooked.
You Still Matter Even if Your World Feels Small
There’s a particular kind of grief that hits in certain seasons of motherhood, the season where your life feels… smaller.
Not in meaning. Not in importance. But in margin.
Maybe you used to be creative. Or social. Or spontaneous.
Maybe you used to read books that weren’t about potty training or feelings.
Maybe you used to know what you liked.
And now?
Now you know the fastest route to the pediatrician.
Now you can identify a fever by forehead kiss alone.
Now you can function on six broken hours of sleep and pure willpower.
And in that “small world” season, it’s easy to believe the lie: I don’t matter right now. I’m just getting everyone else through.
Friend, listen: you are not just getting through.
You are living a real life, in a real body, with real needs.
Taking up space in motherhood doesn’t mean you become loud or demanding or someone you’re not.
It can look like staying soft while still being honest.
It can look like remembering you are a whole person, not a background character in everyone else’s story.
It can look like letting yourself be supported instead of silently powering through until you break.
And when you start to believe your own value again, you begin to see yourself differently. You begin to notice the places where you’re meant to contribute—not because you’re trying to earn love, but because you already have something to offer.
The Micro-Return List: 5 Tiny Ways to Come Back to Yourself (in 2 minutes or less)
Because when you’re in the thick of it, “self-care” can sound like a cruel joke. So here are small, doable returns:
1. Two minutes outside
Stand in the doorway. Feel the air. Look at the sky. Let your nervous system unclench a little.
2. One song that feels like you
Put it on while you make lunch. Let your body remember joy.
3. A “real” drink
Water in a cup you like. Or tea. Or yes, even the coffee you reheat for the fourth time—just sit down for three sips.
4. A sentence that tells the truth
“This is hard—and I’m not failing.” (Say it out loud if you can. Whisper counts.)
5. One tiny yes to yourself
Lotion on your hands. Fresh sheets. Ten minutes with a book. A shower that isn’t rushed. A quiet “no” to one more thing.
Small doesn’t mean insignificant. Small is often what saves us.
You Don’t Have to Become Someone New—You just Get to Stop Shrinking
Somewhere along the way, a lot of moms learn to make themselves smaller.
To not need too much.
To not ask for too much.
To not feel too much.
To not take up too much space.
But you were not created to disappear.
You are allowed to exist as a whole person in your own home.
You are allowed to be seen.
You are allowed to be supported.
You are allowed to need rest, help, and gentleness.
And no, this doesn’t make you selfish. It makes you human.
Because here’s the truth: when you remember your worth, you stop trying to earn your place. You start living from who you are instead of performing for approval. You begin to show up with more steadiness, more clarity, more peace.
Not because life suddenly gets easy, but because you stop abandoning yourself inside of it.
If you’re in the thick of it with sticky fingers, loud afternoons, endless laundry, big feelings (theirs and yours), I just want you to hear this:
You still matter. Right now.
Not after the kids sleep through the night.
Not after the house stays clean for more than twelve minutes.
Not after you “get it together.”
Right now.
You get to take up space in the sphere you belong in. And if all you can do today is a micro-return…two minutes outside, three sips of coffee, one honest sentence. That counts.
Little by little, you’re coming back to yourself.
And you are so worth coming back to.
