How Motherhood Brought Me Back to Myself
There’s a moment in early parenthood—usually when you’re exhausted, overwhelmed, and wondering where your old self went—when it feels like your entire identity has been consumed by motherhood.
It certainly doesn’t help when we are fed this constant message (especially mothers) that there’s your life before kids and then the life that happens after. As if becoming a parent instantly replaces your old identity with a new one. As if you’re supposed to choose one or the other:
your life
or
kid life
Newsflash! It actually doesn’t have to be an “or.” It never did.
Yes, the early years force a slowing down. Your world reshapes itself around nap schedules, feedings, school pickups, and the constant hum of responsibility. And for a while, it can feel like you disappeared in the process. That’s real. That’s valid. Most of us go through a season where reinventing your identity isn’t intentional—it’s survival.
But as time goes on, something shifts. You start to remember pieces of yourself. You start craving parts of your old identity. And that’s where the beauty of integration comes in.
Because your kids don’t just take space in your life—they become part of your identity. And you can choose to let them into your world in ways that enrich both of you.
That’s when I finally understood something profound: motherhood wasn’t pulling me away from myself. It was quietly, steadily, bringing me back.
The Early Days: My Kids Came Everywhere With Me
When I ran Red Wagon Catering in New York, my two girls didn’t stay at home while I built my business. They came with me. Literally. In the backseat, in the kitchen, walking into studios and fashion shoots while I was delivering food.
We were our own little unit moving through the city.
I can still picture their tiny hands helping me carry tubs that were too big for them. Their little voices asking who we were delivering to next. Sometimes they were bouncing with curiosity; other times, they were slumped in a chair, bored out of their minds and asking if we were done yet.
But even in those moments—especially in those moments—they were witnessing something sacred:
They saw me as a whole person.
Not just “Mom.”
A woman building something.
A woman showing up.
A woman trying.
And those are the memories that lasted.
Not the perfect ones. The real ones.
The Crystal Ball I Didn't Know I Had
Now that my girls are older, I can finally see what I wish someone had reassured me back then.
Bringing your kids along—into your work, into your passion, into your world—plants seeds you won’t see sprout for years.
Even when they’re bored.
Even when they don’t seem to care.
Even when you feel like you're juggling too much.
They are absorbing everything.
They grow up knowing you as a whole person.
They grow up understanding your effort.
They grow up with pride in where they came from.
They grow up connected to you in a way that’s deeper than any lecture or life lesson.
And one day—when you’re not paying attention—they step into your world like they’ve belonged there all along.
Life ended up giving me the chance to test this theory not once, but twice. When my second marriage came to an end during Covid, I found myself rebuilding my identity from the ground up all over again—this time with three little boys in tow. I closed the doors to my catering company, moved to Chicago, and finally made the decision to pursue my real passion. It was something that had lived inside me my entire life, something I knew in my bones I was meant to do. And for the first time, I stopped listening to the naysayers. I followed my heart. I trusted my gut. I dove headfirst into teaching fitness, yoga, and Pilates full-time.
My boys were right there for every part of it—watching me study late at night for my certifications, practicing endlessly to perfect my craft, saying yes to early morning classes with barely any sleep, teaching anyone and everyone just to get my foot in the door. They saw the nerves that hit me before standing in front of a sold-out room, and the rush of renewal I felt when I absolutely crushed it. They saw the exhaustion, the discipline, the tiny victories, and the deeply fulfilled energy that only comes from building something honest.
Just like my daughters had years before, my boys absorbed it all—the resilience, the creativity, the courage, the heart. They weren’t just tagging along; they were growing alongside me, learning that life doesn’t pause for comfort, but it can be navigated together. And in watching me rebuild, they learned something even more important: that a parent can be fully present and fully themselves, all at once.
They watched me invest in myself—my potential, my identity, the woman I am—while still showing up fully and completely as their mom. And what they witnessed wasn’t just the work. They witnessed the passion, the commitment, the resilience, and the sheer persistence it takes to create a life that finally feels like home.
Bringing Mehana Into Make Me Awesome
Watching Mehana step into the world of Make Me Awesome is a joy in ways I never expected. She brings her own identity, her own creativity, and her own passions into this space. She’s not just my daughter—she’s a woman I admire and respect deeply. I see her confidence, her boldness, and her clarity in becoming the person she was born to be.
Motherhood has never been about cloning myself. That idea never sat right with me. I didn’t have children to create mini versions of me. I had children to experience the beauty of raising, leading, and loving in a way that knows no bounds. To watch another human grow into themselves, fully and unapologetically, is a gift I could never have anticipated.
Seeing Mehana step into her own light while walking alongside me reminds me of everything motherhood has taught me: identity is not lost in parenting—it’s expanded. Love is not limiting—it’s liberating. And our children, when allowed to bring their full selves into our worlds, become teachers, collaborators, and sources of inspiration in ways that enrich all of us.
The Beauty of Integration: Identity, Leadership, and Individuality
Motherhood has taught me more about identity than any other chapter of my life—who I am, who I’m becoming, and who I hope my children grow into. It’s shown me that identity isn’t something we lose when we become parents; it’s something we expand, carry forward, and model in real time. And the most meaningful way our children learn who they are is by watching us live honestly as ourselves.
When my kids see me fully—struggling, creating, dreaming, working, growing—they learn that being a parent and being a person aren’t opposing roles. They learn that courage, curiosity, passion, and drive are not just lessons we talk about; they are truths we live.
And the real magic happens when I make space for them to bring their own identities into our shared world. Watching Mehana step into Make Me Awesome with her creativity and boldness reminded me that motherhood was never about replication. It’s about raising individuals—supporting their growth, honoring their voice, and loving them without molding them into versions of ourselves.
I’ve watched the same unfold with my sons. Their resilience, curiosity, pride in effort, and confidence are reflections not of perfection, but of presence. They’ve seen me rebuild, reinvent, rise, and try again—and in that, they’ve learned that being fully yourself is not only allowed, it’s powerful.
Motherhood isn’t a narrowing of who we are. It’s an expansion—an invitation to integrate our passions, our purpose, and our humanity into a life our children can witness up close. When we let them see us fully and invite them to stand beside us, we give them permission to do the same in their own lives.
When we model identity, individuality, leadership, and joy, we create more than a family routine—we create a life rich with connection, inspiration, and the shared beauty of becoming.
Because in the end, the greatest gift we can give our children isn’t just our love. It’s the freedom to see themselves clearly, to honor who they are, and to know they can be fully themselves while walking alongside us.