THE TRUTH BEFORE THE BLOOM

No one warned me that becoming a mother also meant saying goodbye to the woman I once was.

The version of me who took her time getting ready. Who loved choosing outfits and doing her hair just right. The one who smiled at her reflection, not because she was perfect, but because she felt alive.

That woman… she slowly faded.

Now my mornings start with little feet running down the hallway, the smell of coffee I might never finish, and the endless checklist of everyone else’s needs. Somewhere in that chaos, I forget mine.

Some days, I tell myself, “Today I’ll dress up. Today I’ll look like me again.” But when the time comes, I’m already exhausted. The thought of putting on jeans feels like climbing a mountain. My hair ends up in the same messy bun, my sweatshirt goes back on, and I tell myself, “Next time.”

And if I’m being honest — that next time rarely comes.

There’s a heartbreak that comes with losing yourself in motherhood that no one really talks about. It’s not dramatic. It’s quiet. It happens slowly — one skipped shower, one rushed morning, one sleepless night at a time.

We dress our kids so beautifully. We make sure their hair is brushed, their shoes match, their outfits are cute. We admire them and think, “They look perfect.” But by the time it’s our turn to get ready, the clock has run out, and we just throw on whatever’s clean.

And that’s the part that stings — because deep down, we miss the version of us who cared. Not because we’re vain, but because she made us feel like ourselves.

Every day doesn’t look the same. Some days, we feel strong and capable. Other days, the exhaustion is heavy — so heavy that even brushing your hair feels like too much.

And that’s okay. That’s part of the truth before the bloom.

This part — the messy, tired, stretched-too-thin part — it’s where the quiet war happens. Where you look in the mirror and barely recognize yourself. Where you wonder, “Will I ever feel beautiful again?”

It’s emotional. It’s lonely. It’s unfair.

And yet, somewhere deep inside, that woman you used to be… she’s still there. Waiting. Not judging you, not shaming you — just waiting.

Waiting for you to see her again.

Motherhood changes everything — your body, your energy, your reflection, your rhythm. But it doesn’t erase you. It just buries you under layers of love, responsibility, and exhaustion.

And that’s the hardest part to admit — that the most beautiful thing we’ve ever done can also make us forget what beauty feels like.

But, mama, this isn’t the end of your story. It’s just the beginning.

The bloom always starts with the soil — messy, imperfect, unseen.

So if you’re sitting there in your sweatpants, your hair in a bun, feeling invisible — I see you. You’re not behind. You’re not lost. You’re just in the part of your story that no one talks about enough.

This is the truth before the bloom. 🌸

AUTHOR: NEMESIS N. ESCOBAR-CRUZ