How I Lost Myself to Parenthood and Slowly Found Myself Again

When I became Ducky's (Lucas-Grey's) Dada, my entire world shifted in ways I could have never truly prepared for. Everything—my schedule, my priorities, my dreams—started orbiting around him. Without hesitation, I handed over my time, my sleep, my energy. And honestly? I didn’t resent it for a second and still don’t. Loving him that fully felt like breathing.

But somewhere along the beautiful chaos of bottle washes, bedtime stories, and early morning walks, I realized I had slowly started setting myself aside. The parts of me that once made me feel whole—my passions, my personal style, my self-care rituals (gosh, I abandoned those biweekly manis and pedis)—were getting squeezed into whatever leftover spaces I could find.

He deserves to know the version of me who still shows up for myself, who still finds joy outside of my role as "Dada." He deserves to see that nurturing someone else’s light doesn’t mean dimming your own.

It started with small moments. Choosing to slip into my favorite loafers or my well-loved mules instead of just whatever shoes were by the door. Picking the chic flip-flops that made me feel polished on the days we strolled to grab coffee or explored the park. It was saying yes to outfits that felt good on me—relaxed but still intentional—even if Ducky was the only one who would see me that day. It was carving out a few quiet minutes for reading a book/magazine, listening to an episode from my favorite podcast or diving into my skincare routine during his bath-time soundtrack of splashes and giggles (gosh, I just love those).

And it was in those tiny choices that I started feeling more me again. Not the old version of me—but a fuller, more grounded one. Parenthood transforms you, yes. But it shouldn’t erase you.

Self-care doesn’t always look like grand gestures anymore. Sometimes it is a few minutes of silence before the house wakes up. Sometimes it is grabbing an iced matcha/latte alone and walking a little slower to savor the feeling of breathing on my own terms. Sometimes it is simply allowing myself to dream about things that have nothing to do with diapers, meal plans, or milestones. And the beautiful thing is Ducky notices.

He sees a Dada who laughs more, moves with more ease, and greets him with an open, energized heart. And even a Dada that learned all of the dance moves to his favorite episode of Elmo.

The world often tells parents that real love looks like constant sacrifice. But I’m learning that it’s the balance that matters—the dance between showing up fully for your child while still tending to the garden inside yourself.

Ducky isn’t just teaching me how to be a good parent. He’s teaching me how important it is to be myself in the process. To remember that style, self-care, and self-love aren’t luxuries. They are necessities. Our kids deserve to know the vibrant, passionate people who raise them. They deserve to see us thriving, not just surviving.

So to every parent reading this: It’s okay to take up space.

It’s okay to wear the outfit.

It’s okay to chase the dream.

It’s okay to tend to your own heart while holding theirs.

Because when we don’t forget who we are, we give our children permission to never forget who they are either.

And every day, as I slip on my loafers, slip into my mules, or slide into my favorite flip-flops with Ducky by my side, I’m reminded we’re both becoming—together.