The Quiet Ache: A Letter To The Mom Lost in Motherhood

You may not know me, but I know you. I know what it feels like to lose yourself in the rhythms of motherhood and wonder if you’ll ever be found again. I know the quiet ache of a house that’s too still, and the beautiful chaos you once swore you’d never miss.

This letter is for us—a reflection from a season that feels both a lifetime ago and just yesterday.

I started writing Brewing Motherhood in 2023…

A season when the chaos still lived in my house, but not so much in my head. When early mornings belonged to me, and my coffee didn’t get cold. When the systems I built weren’t just saving time—they were saving me.

That was the version of me who created Brewing Motherhood.

It started in a coffee shop in New York. My husband was working beside me, completely immersed in his world, while I sat watching the city move—people dressed with purpose, focused, caffeinated, rushing from one meeting to the next. I remember thinking: I miss that. Not the pressure, but the rhythm. The routines. The feeling of waking up and having something that belonged to me.

And almost immediately, the guilt crept in. How dare I want more, when so many women would give anything to stay home? But the truth was, I didn’t want less of motherhood. I just wanted to find myself inside of it.

And in that moment, the idea dropped in: I’d already built something. I’d created systems for three kids under three, a house that ran like a small company, and days filled with intention. What if I shared that? What if the way I was managing motherhood could become something more?

That was the heart of the Brewing Motherhood guide. A place for the lists and systems that helped me find peace when my hands were full and my identity felt far away.

But then, like most things in motherhood, life moved. Routines unraveled. I unraveled. And I almost didn’t touch Brewing Motherhood again—not because it wasn’t valuable, but because I didn’t feel like her anymore. But the truth is, I still need this. And maybe you do too.

This space isn’t a manual for perfection. It’s not a workbook for women who have it all together. It’s a quiet return. To yourself. To rhythm. To the small, steady rituals that remind you you’re still in there.

Motherhood will keep shifting. Life will keep layering. You will grow, lose pieces of yourself, find new ones, and grow again. Just like brewing the best cup of coffee, it’s a process of adjusting—adding more strength when the season calls for it, more sweetness when you finally have room to breathe. You keep refining the recipe until it fits you again. That’s what this is. That’s what Brewing Motherhood means to me.

Here’s to the return. Even if it’s slow. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s different than you imagined.

You’re not behind. You’re just becoming.