Losing My Autonomy:
The Unspoken Struggle of Motherhood
Motherhood arrives with a bundle of joy,
a truckload of diapers, and a sneaky thief named Autonomy who starts chipping away at your personal freedom from the moment you see the two lines on the pregnancy test.
One of the most profound changes I experienced with the birth of my first child—who turned out to be what pediatricians diplomatically call a "high-need" baby—was the complete overhaul of my personal autonomy.
My daughter needed constant contact.
If I wasn’t nearby, she let us know. Loudly. This isn’t hyperbole; I mean it was a 24/7 job with no breaks, not even for bathroom visits. Suddenly, peeing alone felt like a spa vacation.
This high level of neediness can press down on you like a physical weight. There were days when the pressure felt so intense that it seemed to be a tangible force, making even simple decisions feel like monumental tasks. Everything was about her needs, her comfort, her survival.
And amidst all this, the person known as ‘me’ seemed to fade into the background.
Even when I was away from her—let's say on those rare grocery runs when I dashed through the aisles like a contestant on a game show—my mind never left her. It was as though my thoughts were tethered to her by an invisible cord, and every little whimper from another baby in the store had me convinced it was her.
The lack of autonomy is a universal whisper among us mothers, often only spoken aloud in the confines of sympathetic company or in the silent camaraderie of knowing looks exchanged over the sandbox at playgroups.
We are on call every moment, our schedules dictated by the tiny, adorable bosses who rule our worlds.
My story isn’t unique.
Many mothers nod in agreement, sharing tales of toddlers who refuse to let them out of sight, even as they attempt a quick shower. One friend humorously recounted how she had to take her two young kids into the bathroom with her, only to have her toddler clap and cheer, "Good job, Mommy!" as she used the toilet. Humour becomes our lifeline, the life raft we cling to amidst the chaos.
As you can see, I can relate to the story 100%
But it’s not all despair and longing for the days of independence. This intense connection and the need to be perpetually available shape a bond that is profoundly deep. The weight of this responsibility also comes with the weight of a love so fierce, it can be overwhelming. On days when she makes me her beautiful drawings with hearts rainbows, or when she hugs me tights and whispers me that she loves me more than infinite, all thoughts of what I’d given up pale in comparison to my pride and joy.
We adapt. We find new strengths. We learn that autonomy isn’t about being alone or doing things solo—it’s about the choices we make within the constraints life throws at us.
Whether it’s carving out ten minutes to read a book with a child asleep on our chest, enjoying a cup of drink on your own, or the triumphant return to using the bathroom solo, these moments of reclaimed self remind us that while motherhood changes us, it also enriches us in ways we could have never imagined.
So, to all the mothers feeling the pinch (or chokehold) of lost autonomy, know you’re not alone. Your feelings are valid, and it's okay to mourn your independence.
Just remember, in the midst of the chaos and the clutter, sometimes the biggest victories come in the smallest packages—like sneaking in a solo hot shower or savouring a hot cup of coffee while it's still warm.
Here’s to finding our feet, one baby step at a time.
With much love,
