How to Find Purpose When You Feel Lost in Motherhood

There was a season of motherhood where I didn’t fully recognize myself.

I loved my children deeply. That was never the question. I knew I would protect them, care for them, and do everything I could to be there for them. But loving my children and feeling connected to myself were not always the same thing.

When I first became a mom, I knew I wanted to stay home with my children. Even before I had my first baby, I tried to choose a path that would allow me to do that. That was part of why I went into graphic design as a career choice. I thought maybe it would give me a way to create from home while still being present with my family.

But when I had my first baby, I did not have that instant emotional connection that so many women talk about. I loved him. I knew I would care for him. But I had never been a mother before, and I had to grow into that role.

Then life moved quickly.

Before I knew it, I had three boys under three.

They were active, loud, wonderful, typical boys. They loved trucks, train tracks, running, crashing into each other, and filling the house with movement and noise. I tried to do all the things good moms do. I took them to the park. I looked for playdates. I fed them, protected them, and tried to create a good life for them.

But underneath all of that, there were waves.

Waves of depletion and disconnect. Waves of feeling like something inside of me was going missing.

I do not think enough women talk honestly about that part of motherhood. Not because we do not love our children. But because being constantly needed can be exhausting. Being “on” all the time can wear on your mind, body, and spirit. You can be surrounded by people all day and still quietly feel alone in yourself.

For me, naps were not just for my kids. They were my breathing room. A small pause in the day where I could exhale too.

And looking back now, I realize something important: You have to find ways not to disappear inside your roles.

That does not mean you do not love your family. It means you were a person before your children, and your soul still needs care too.

As the years went on, life changed in different seasons. My children got older. Eventually, everyone was finally in school, and for the first time in a long time, I had a little space again. I started focusing on my health. I worked hard. I lost weight. I started to feel stronger.

Then COVID hit.

And just like that, everything shifted again.

The time and margin I had found disappeared. My children were suddenly home doing online school. I was trying to help them through that while life itself felt unstable. Then my husband left his job to stay home with the kids while I worked full-time doing graphic design because the work demand had increased.

That season was one of the hardest of my life.

I was carrying my work, my children’s needs, the pressure of home, and so much emotional weight at once. My husband was struggling too, and I found myself trying to hold him together while trying not to fall apart myself. Not to mention we lost one of our dogs who was with us for 14 years.

It was survival.

My stress rose. My health suffered. I gained weight back. My body was overwhelmed, and eventually, after that long season of strain, I was diagnosed with cancer.

And even now, when I look back on that season, I can see both the heartbreak and the hand of God.

My husband had just gotten a new job, and I had just been added to his health insurance before my diagnosis. That insurance covered so much of what I would need. I cannot look at that and say the Lord was not watching over me.

I saw miracle after miracle through those years.

Not always in flashy ways.
But in the quiet provision.
The timing.
The help.
The strength.
The way burdens were lightened just enough.

Sometimes the math did not make sense on paper, but the Lord still made a way.

That is one of the hardest parts of survival mode.

You are still living, but it can feel like you are missing your own life while you are trying to make it through it.

You love your family.
You want to be present.
But internally, you feel stuck.

Lost.
Exhausted.
Disconnected.

And yet, even there, I have learned something I want to say to the mom reading this:

Feeling lost does not mean you are gone.
It means something in you needs care, remembering, renewing, and restoring.

For me, that restoration did not happen all at once. It came in waves, just like the struggle had.

There have been seasons where I felt strong and clear, and then something would happen and I would feel myself struggling again. That is part of life. It does not mean you are failing. It means you are human.

What matters is learning how to come back to yourself when the waves hit.

Today I'm sharing these three things that have helped me do just that.