The Bowed Life

I love my daughter.

I love being her mom.

Motherhood has brought a joy I never knew existed. Watching her grow, hearing her laugh, and seeing her smile feels like living inside a miracle. But I’d be lying if I said that’s all it’s been.

Because for a little while, things got dark.

The exhaustion hit first—physically, emotionally, spiritually. I felt lost, floating in a body I barely recognized, unsure who I was beyond the titles of “wife” and “mom.” For those few months, I kept my circle small—just my husband, my brother, and my best friend. They were my lifeline. I detached from almost everyone else. I told myself I was doing great, and maybe in that newborn haze, I was.

But then summer came, and I returned to work full-time—and something shifted.

I was not okay.

The joy I had felt turned into survival mode. I was caught in a cycle of giving and giving—with nothing left for myself. I now realize that the unhealthy work environment I returned to only intensified my decline. I was trying to juggle it all: motherhood, marriage, work, friendships… and somewhere in the middle, I forgot to just be me.

And when you forget who you are, everything begins to unravel.

Some things got dropped.

Some friendships ended.

Others shifted into something unfamiliar—something that after the storm, I pray becomes something better.

I was gaining weight, not just physically, but emotionally. I had no clue what made me happy anymore. I wasn’t creating. I wasn’t dreaming. I was just existing.

But then came the wake-up call.

A reality check. A revelation.

With the support of my husband, brother, and best friend—who reminded me that I am still me under all these layers—I started working towards peace. I’ve been rediscovering the little things that once lit me up: the joys I had as a child, before shame from others and self doubt told me I had to dim them. I’m setting boundaries, honoring my energy, and working on balance.

Being a better wife now means we prioritize each other—monthly date nights, real conversations, moments just for us. (More on that in another post soon.) I’m  showing up for my friendships again, even if it’s just through texts for now. Toddler life makes phone calls almost laughable—but that’s okay. I’m learning to connect in ways that feel manageable.

Postpartum depression didn’t look like tears every day.

It looked like detachment. Silence. Smiling when I didn’t feel okay.

But I’m healing.

And if you’re in the thick of it, please know—you’re not alone.

You can find yourself again.

You will feel joy again.

And your story isn’t over. It’s just beginning.

Brittany Odesanya