The Person I Became Before I Became Mum

This might be controversial, but I don’t think I became a mum the day my babies were born. For me, it happened much earlier than that. It happened the moment I saw those two little lines on a pregnancy test. Even after the miscarriages we’d been through, something shifted almost instantly. I don’t know if love is the right word, because how can you fully love someone you’ve never met? But I felt something. Suddenly there was this tiny little group of cells that I would have done absolutely anything to protect. From that moment on, every decision I made somehow came back to this baby.

People put so much emphasis on birth being the moment you become a mother. We call pregnant women “mums-to-be”, we celebrate becoming a mum at baby showers and we count down to the day your baby arrives. And of course birth changes you… it introduces you to your baby, it shows you strengths you never knew you had, it asks more of you than you ever thought possible. But when I look back now, I don’t think that’s where motherhood began for me. I think I was already becoming a mum months before I ever held my babies.

Everything about the way I thought started to change. I remember washing my hair and catching myself wondering where the baby bouncer would go in the bathroom. I’d sit on Christmas morning imagining what the following Christmas would look like. Would they be crawling by then? Walking? What presents would they unwrap? I’d see children in the supermarket or running around the park and immediately find myself wondering whether my baby would be like them one day. Without even realising it, my future had stopped revolving around me and started revolving around somebody I’d never even met.

One of the biggest surprises for me was how pregnancy changed the relationship I had with my own body. I’ve never been someone who has looked in the mirror and loved what she saw. Like so many women, I’ve spent years focusing on the bits I wished were different. Yet when I was pregnant, all of that seemed to disappear. I loved my bump, I wore clothes that showed it off and I found it fascinating that while I was just getting on with everyday life, my body was quietly growing an entire human being. Yes, my hips hurt, the heartburn was horrendous and getting out of bed towards the end deserved an Olympic medal. But none of that outweighed the amazement I felt.

When my stretch marks appeared, I thought I’d be upset. Instead, I looked at them differently. Especially after everything we’d been through before Paisley, they felt like proof that my body was doing something incredible. Even now, when I catch myself criticising the body I see in the mirror, I try to remember how I felt during those pregnancies. Those stretch marks tell my children’s story. Those wider hips carried three babies. This body has done remarkable things, even if I sometimes forget it.

Looking back, I also realise how instinctive everything became – I was forever resting my hand on my bump without thinking. People used to comment on it, which made me a bit self conscious, but I don’t think I even realised I was doing it. If I walked through a crowd, my hands would automatically protect my bump. I’d talk to the baby when nobody else was around. I’d imagine who they might become, what they’d look like and what our life together would be. I don’t remember making a conscious decision to do any of those things, they just happened. Maybe that was motherhood quietly finding me.

Each of my pregnancies changed me in different ways. Paisley made me dream because everything was new. Morgan taught me that pregnancy doesn’t stop just because you’ve already got a little person relying on you. Then there was Adaline – she was our surprise, arriving at a time when I’d just been made redundant and life felt completely uncertain. Looking back now, I think her pregnancy changed me in the biggest way of all because it was while I was pregnant with her that I built The Mama Spring. Without really noticing, I was creating a career that fitted around the kind of mother I wanted to be.

If I could go back and sit beside the version of me who had just seen those two little lines, I think the biggest thing I’d tell her is that she’s going to be okay. I’d tell her to trust her body more than she thinks she can. I’d tell her that the worries keeping her awake at night won’t last forever and that even when life throws challenges she never expected, she’ll cope far better than she imagines. Most of all, I’d tell her how proud I am of her because she was already doing enough, even though she didn’t feel like it.

That’s why I don’t think becoming a mum starts when your baby is born. I think it starts much earlier, in all the tiny moments that nobody else really notices. Every appointment you go to. Every decision you make with your baby in mind. Every time you ask a question because you want to give them the best possible start. Every antenatal class you book because you’re already thinking about the kind of birth and beginning you want for your family.

If you’re pregnant as you read this, you might feel like you’re waiting to become a mum. I don’t think you are, I think you’re already becoming exactly the mother your baby needs, one quiet decision at a time.

I’m Danielle, the founder of The Mama Spring and mum to three girls.

A former early years teacher, I now support women through pregnancy, birth and early motherhood with honest education, hypnobirthing, and calm baby classes in Grimsby.

If this resonated, these might be the next pieces to read:
Just Found Out I’m Pregnant, Now What? – A few things you can do in those early days before you tell anyone you’re pregnant.

The Conversation That Broke My Heart (Again) – Another thought provoking journal article about a conversation I overheard in the playground.