THE MOMENT
I grabbed my keys, lifted my daughter into my arms, went to the car, turned it on and strapped her into the car seat. I went back into the house, picked up my work bag, my daughter’s lunch bag, her diaper bag and my lunch bag. Walked to the car, put them in, walked back to the house, grabbed my pump bag and my cooler, closed up the house and moved the car.
Before I drove off, I realised I was exhausted.
I was sweating. There was visible sweat on my forehead. I was also out of breath; my breathing was shallow and fast.
The day hadn’t even started yet.
I hadn’t dropped my daughter off. I hadn’t taught my students. And I was already over it.
As I stared at the road ahead of me before driving off, I thought to myself, This was never this hard.
Leaving for work had been a solid process for me for years. But today, it was exhausting. I wanted to go back inside.
I looked back at the pre-mommy version of me and I felt sadness. I never thought about this part!
If pre-mommy me could see me now, she would encourage me. She would tell me it’s okay, because this phase doesn’t last forever.
THE LIFE I THOUGHT I WANTED
You never truly understand how ordinary things were luxuries until they disappear.
A typical work morning looked like this: quiet coffee, a quick shower, get dressed, grab my work bag and lunch bag, pack the car and I’m out the door.
One hour tops!
If I woke up late, I could cut it to 30 minutes. All I had to think about was my coffee, maybe a journal entry. What I wore was decided from Sunday, so mornings were brainless.
After work, I had the freedom to move at my own pace. I could leave work however late I chose and go anywhere I pleased for as long as I wanted. My routine was flexible, and I never had to inform a soul.
Sometimes after work, I would chill with my friend until 9:00 p.m. If I didn’t cook, I just bought KFC or a nice warm meal from the Chinese restaurant with a side of wonton soup.
On Saturdays, sometimes I did absolutely nothing and crammed my work prep into Sunday. I remember I used to tell my friends how bored I was on a Saturday and how much I wanted to do activities that would get my adrenaline going.
Just the thought of feeling bored now makes me laugh.
I would do almost anything for a boring, do-nothing Saturday. I never realised how much of a blessing it was to DO NOTHING.
When I pictured myself at this age—30—I thought I would be one year into marriage, have purchased my new home or land, and just be deciding to conceive a child.
Two to five years later, I would have established two businesses, monetised on YouTube, installed and removed my braces, worked part-time in the hospital for fun, purchased land to build my dream home, and be considering conceiving another child.
I was literally about to make my deposit to the orthodontist to install my braces, and I had already made my deposit for a new tattoo. I was committed to beginning some serious, hardcore investing—in my art, my businesses and just my overall lifestyle.
I wanted financial freedom, which would, in turn, give me free time. And if you didn’t know before, time is money, and vice versa.
In my career, I was about to level up: polish my appearance, advance my education and possibly work on being placed in a department that would fulfil me.
I was never carefree. I was always a planner, but my responsibilities were significantly smaller. Just a simple car loan.
I never truly appreciated that version of my life while I lived it. And that’s why I am more intentional about my journal now. I want to appreciate every single moment of this life I was given while I’m living it—not after all is said and done.
I am used to being busy. I balanced night shifts at the hospital with day shifts teaching, sometimes for 72 hours straight, with only zero to two hours of sleep during break time at the hospital.
It was extremely difficult because, when you are the teacher, your students feed off your energy. Even though I felt like I was slowly falling asleep, with low energy and body aches, I gave my students my A-game and kept the energy up in the classroom.
Not without a couple cups of coffee, of course!
I knew what tired felt like.
I nursed patients or charged the unit at night, then took control of my classroom by day. Sacrifice back then, for me, meant no time, and I thought I was living life in the “correct order.”
However, life took a quick drift into a new order.
If I could have one ordinary day from my pre-motherhood life again, I would wake at 10:00 a.m., have my coffee while scrolling on TikTok, eat my breakfast at noon, shower, and lie in bed until night watching a series on Netflix.
A simple DO NOTHING day.
THINGS I MISS ABOUT HER
Pre-motherhood, I was very easy-going and super relaxed.
Since motherhood, I’ve had to change easy-going to intentional. Even if I want to relax, I have to be intentional about it.
Back then, I was so excited to relax and DO NOTHING because, in those moments, I could dwell in my energy only and do anything I wanted to. I watched documentaries, series and even videos about wealth and personal development.
I had more time for me.
I dreamt of my perfect teeth, my polished appearance and my investment portfolio, but now, temporarily, I’ve put them down.
There were some things I didn’t “have to” put down, like being on time or planning, but I did because I felt like I couldn’t hold it all together.
I miss being on time. I miss having a weekly schedule with endless “free time” to get my hair and nails done.
But quickly, I realised some of it I was romanticising because life was easier. Easy-going…
Do I miss this version of myself? Or do I miss having fewer responsibilities?
If you asked me if there was anything about pre-motherhood Zu that I’m afraid I may never get back, I would tell you no.
Because I’m not looking to be her anymore.
I actually can’t be her anymore.
THINGS I DON’T MISS
Believing that life had to follow a set pattern caused me to subconsciously try to prove myself.
Prove that I could have it in the exact way, with the right timing and the perfect order.
I placed a lot of importance on achieving MY goal, regardless of how it would make others feel. I constantly worried about putting in all this work, effort and planning, only for everything to fail.
Now, I am excited about the obstacles and redirections that life throws at me because I now see that all things do work out for my good.
Friends and associates alike would “play in my face,” and I would “let them” because I was easy-going. I didn’t care. I didn’t have boundaries.
But oh, how the tables have turned!
The boundaries I have now make me wonder sometimes what I was doing before.
I allowed people to simply waste my time, and because I believed I had so much of it, I didn’t feel the need to stop it.
I was busy! All the time. Genuinely busy.
I was productive.
You may wonder if I was progressing. I was! But not intentionally; more as a result of constantly doing.
My goals weren’t entirely my own. They were influenced by almost everyone in my inner circle. They didn’t lie about peer influence—it’s inevitable. Hence, you must ensure you are surrounded by the right people.
I knew that being a mother would cause some changes, but I didn’t understand the depth of the change until I lived it.
I would tell the old me to stop worrying about doing everything according to your timeline. Life will quickly show you that you aren’t in control and that you must be flexible.
Compassion was never an easy thing for me, and I still haven’t figured out why.
Maybe I didn’t have any significant, life-changing event to teach me compassion.
I doubt it, though. My father died when I was 18.
Doesn’t that count?
Motherhood was the hard lesson in compassion.
Once you tell me you have a child, even when I disagree with your choices or behaviour, I will find a reason to be compassionate towards you.
I am actually glad I outgrew my lack of compassion because I, too, needed compassion—and a lot of it. Especially in the first six months postpartum.
One friend in particular gave me unconditional compassion. My mom, my partner, some of my family and even some associates did too.
One particular incident with a family member left me feeling judged at a time when I really needed understanding.
That incident taught me a thing or two about compassion. So much so that when I caught myself doing some things I had previously judged other mothers for, I quickly corrected my thinking and instead looked for the reason why these things were being done.
Mothers and fathers alike shared endless stories with me about their own experiences, and I quickly realised you really don’t know what happens inside someone else’s home. Some stories were ridiculous.
Despite all that, compassion didn’t make me softer; it made me less quick to judge.
Looking back, I wish I had extended more compassion to single mothers. I have support, and it is still challenging. I can’t even fathom what it would be like to do it all alone—not just financially, but physically, mentally and emotionally.
I don’t want to become the version of me I was before because this season of life requires a different Zu.
She’s more structured and organised.
The woman I am now is very intentional, and she has healthy boundaries galore.
I would never trade the woman I am today just to have my easy-going life again.
WHAT SHE LEFT ME WITH
Not everything had to change. Some things just needed more structure.
My ambition, for example.
They say becoming a mother makes you go harder, but I have also learned that during each stage of your child’s life, your ambition will fluctuate and focus on different aspects.
In the early years of my daughter’s life, my ambition is geared towards security and financial stability.
My planning nature went into overdrive after having a child, and it was disguising my anxiety.
I have since learned to plan more intentionally. The excessive planning was a result of my anxiousness towards uncertainty. But motherhood is full of uncertainty, so worrying about it would eventually paralyse me.
Loss of independence is something I feel people shame mothers for, but it’s real, and we can’t ignore it.
However, there are parts of motherhood that push you to become more independent and create different types of freedom.
Before becoming a mother, independence was choosing a day not to go to work because I didn’t feel like it. Now, it’s starting my own business and not depending on an employer.
Before motherhood, I was a planner.
Now, I am a planner in overdrive.
My ambition is no longer general; it is meticulously streamlined. I’ve learnt that some ideas I will have to let pass by, as I can’t do all and be all.
I’ve learnt that independence can come in many forms, and it doesn’t have to look the same way as everyone else.
I didn’t lose these parts of me.
I’ve since learnt how to use them.
WHAT SHE BUILT
I wish I could answer the question, Who are you now?
I would say, I am becoming.
I don’t think I will ever become! Because that would mean the journey of life has ended.
I can tell you that pregnancy, labour, delivery and postpartum have built a spirit of resilience in me.
Nobody can ever tell me that something lasts forever.
NOTHING but memories last forever.
It has to end. Good or bad. The only difference is how it ends.
I have become more solid in my values. I know what I would and would not do, and I can also recognise that there are things in life where you just have to say, “When you get to that bridge, you will cross it.”
One boundary I have now is that I don’t let anybody and everybody give me advice on how to raise my child.
I am very cautious about how I receive and apply information, as each situation has its own merits, and what works for the goose may not work for the gander.
I truly value spending time with friends and family, especially when they give me space to be a mother and assist as necessary.
Many people think postpartum support looks like going out with friends and having a break from the baby.
But truly, it’s coming over and not forgetting to bring food. Washing the dishes for me. Playing with the baby. Bringing me water. Chit-chatting. When the baby naps, we do whatever we want.
Ask any mom—there was a point when going out with the baby was tedious.
The upside is that after each event, you learn better ways of doing the next.
My daughter’s first beach trip, I was annoyed by the sand cleanup. Her second, I did so much better. By the third, I opted out of the beach and stayed by the river because, mentally, I couldn’t manage the cleanup.
And that, my friend, is knowing when to hold and when to fold.
I am building security for my family.
I am building legacy for myself.
Sounds a bit corny, but Beyoncé’s song I Was Here made me cry the very first time I heard it at 15 years old.
It is still my theme song now.
In order to “be here,” I have to bring the best of me from the past into the future and leave the rest behind.
It’s not called an evolution for nothing!
Here’s what I want to teach you:
You didn’t fail or lose it all after having a child—or children.
You were redirected.
You just haven’t figured out the path yet.
Unitl next Sunday,
Zu
