It was a strange feeling, surreal in fact. I had everything I had ever wanted. A husband who loves me, is my best friend, is kind, is a terrific father and does housework. A smart, beautiful daughter who thinks I’m a queen. And now, a son, a beautiful baby boy who has stolen my heart. And yet somehow, I wasn’t happy – I wasn’t me. And I hadn’t been me for quite some time.



I lost myself in 2003. I found myself in 2006. Three years. Not gone, well spent and many lessons learned. A journey from independent carefree woman, to mommy and nothing else, to me – the real me, who can embrace the journey. Here’s how it went:

In the spring of 2003, on my 34th birthday, I became a mother. My daughter was beautiful, perfect. I was thrilled. My life became one of going to mothers support groups, playgroups and just holding my precious little girl. Yet, as in love as I was with her I felt somehow detached. Like I was watching everything unfold through a window. In retrospect I realize that I was suffering from a moderate case of post-partum depression, but in the thick of it I didn’t see it – I knew my life had changed permanently and thought I would just get used to it.

After a few short months it became apparent that we could not make ends meet on my husband’s income alone. We had agreed long before that we felt strongly that one parent should be home with the child(ren). People had always told me how great I was with kids, so I decided to take care of someone else’s children in addition to my own. That way, I would be home with my daughter and at the same time making a modest income to supplement my husband’s earnings. It seemed the perfect plan. I found a family that was interested in my services, and the first seven months or so went quite well.

Just before my daughter’s first birthday we bought a home. And we moved about 35 miles away. So, I went about joining new playgroups and also marketing myself to families who might need childcare. I found someone, and began watching a little girl just three weeks younger in age from my daughter.

All the while I still felt I was watching it all through a window. I was still detached. I still felt alone. I still wondered when I would feel normal again.

I took the two little girls, my daughter and our new friend, to the park every morning, I took them to playgroups twice a week and story time at the library. I sat on the floor with them and played and sang and read books. I laughed and I smiled and inside I felt empty.

Where had I gone? Where was I? Who was I? I had lost myself somewhere here on the shelf. I felt surely I couldn’t have gone far. Certainly I would come back… wouldn’t I?

I became pregnant when my daughter was 21 months old and suffered from horrible morning sickness. Yet I kept up my happy front. I had to; I had a job to do. I was a mommy and a caretaker.

A couple of months before my son was born I stopped taking care of our little friend. My husband and I had made some financial arrangements so that we would be okay with me not working for a few months. It was just my little girl and I. It was a happy time. We talked about her being a big sister, we went shopping for baby stuff, and we ate a lot of ice cream. And I thought I felt detached because I was so uncomfortably pregnant.

After my son was born I sank into an even deeper depression, and at the same time felt guilty for feeling depressed – after all, I had everything I had ever wanted.

Luckily, I had the sense to talk to my doctor about it and he prescribed medication, which helped lift the cloud from over my head, helped break that window I had been peering through for two and half years. But still, I didn’t feel I had found myself. But now that I wasn’t so depressed, I decided it was time to take some time and send out a search party.

Who had I been before I became a mother? I had been an independent, fun loving gal – I had gone to graduate school and earned a masters degree in psychology, but somewhere along the line decided being a therapist wasn’t exactly what I wanted. I had worked in the corporate world as a trainer and recruiter. And simultaneously, I had spent ten years as a coach and facilitator in the weight loss industry. I had been someone who thrived on working with adults to help them achieve something – whether it was a step up in their career or many pounds down from an unhealthy weight. I enjoyed motivating people – that, I realized, is my calling. Motivating people – and adults, specifically.

Woohoo! I had uncovered some important information about myself. I embarked on a journey of self-discovery. When the baby napped I read, I wrote, I explored… and I prayed. An angel disguised as my dearest friend mentioned a coaching certification program she had heard about designed for professionals who already had a therapy or coaching background. I checked into it. I registered. I found myself – a lovely blend of many of my old attributes mixed in with the lessons of having been lost for three years, as well as all the thrills and blessings of being a mother.

I have found my calling. Working with other moms who have lost themselves, somewhere right here on the shelf. Helping these women uncover who they have become by reviving long-unused strengths and acknowledging new ones.

And my children have a happy mommy.