Why It Took Me Two Years to Enjoy Motherhood

by Margie DuBois, CPC

September 8, 2026

My son turned two last week, and I can finally say that I genuinely enjoy my role as a mom.

To be clear, I felt grateful to be his mom from the very beginning. But it took me almost two years to say — with my full heart — "I love being a mom."

Being grateful for something and genuinely enjoying the experience of it are two very different things.

And for the first year and a half, motherhood was not fun. Not because of the sleepless nights or the diaper changes (although those weren’t easy), but because of the deeper things that don’t get talked about nearly enough in the postpartum world.

It was living in a new neighborhood with no family, friends, or meal trains.

It was spending my entire maternity leave watching my son wail after every meal while my concerns about a food allergy went unheard.

It was struggling through six months of breastfeeding before one friend had the courage to look me in the eye and say: “you don’t have to do this anymore.”

It was being diagnosed with an autoimmune disease a year and a half in.

It was grieving my dad’s Parkinson’s diagnosis and the limited capacity it left my parents with to support my family.

It was the constant financial weight of daycare plus a mortgage payment.

It was the well-intentioned but poorly-timed reminders like: “Savor every moment! It goes by fast.”

And it was being a working mom in a country that doesn’t give families the resources they need to thrive.

. . .

I want to be very clear about something. There were absolutely joyful moments during the first two years of motherhood.

But my day-to-day experience wasn't fun. And I think we need to normalize this reality way more.

When we are unwilling to tell the truth about the joyful and messy parts of motherhood, we invalidate the human experience and make people feel alone in their suffering.

For generations, women have been taught to accept suffering as part of being a good mother — to carry more, ask for less, and push through.

We need more women willing to challenge that narrative. To ask for help. To expect equal partnership. To admit when something isn't working. And to believe that prolonged suffering isn't a requirement of good motherhood.

Because when we normalize suffering instead of talking honestly about it, we don't create stronger mothers. We make it harder to build healthy families, leaders, and communities.

For me, telling the truth about motherhood has been an essential part of finding my way forward.

I didn't need to convince myself that I should be enjoying it more. I needed to figure out what would help me feel better and build my confidence as a mom.

I had to live my way into fulfillment, one day at a time.

I stayed committed to learning.

I stopped expecting myself to enjoy every part of the process.

I started building my village.

I stopped investing in relationships with people who only shared their highlight reels.

I unfollowed social media accounts that weren’t helping me.

I fiercely advocated for my health, even when people didn’t listen to me.

I planned solo trips and alone time without guilt.

I celebrated having a husband who is a true, equal partner in parenting.

And when the bad days happened, I stopped letting them completely derail me.

Bit by bit, I saw my confidence rise.

Eventually, I was able to say it and mean it in my bones: I love being a mom.

. . .

The greatest gift my son has given me over the last two years is renewed confidence.

While becoming a mom shook my self-esteem in ways I never expected, today it is stronger than ever.

My son has reminded me that I have to put on my oxygen mask first if I want to care for him and others well.

He’s helped me become kinder to myself and better at celebrating the small wins.

He’s taught me that excellence requires patience, perseverance, and deliberate effort. 

And he’s shown me, over and over again, that I am often doing a much better job than I think.

Two years in, I’m proud to be his mom.