Pregnancy, Identity, and the Shifting Self

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Change has a way of cracking us open, even when it’s beautiful, long-awaited, or deeply meaningful.

We tend to think that only painful transitions bring discomfort. But growth — even the kind rooted in joy — can feel raw and uncertain too.

Because change, no matter how positive, asks something of us. It asks us to let go. To release the known. To stretch into unfamiliar space.

Lately, I’ve been sitting with questions that don’t always have tidy answers:
Who am I becoming?
Will I still recognise myself after this shift?
Am I allowed to feel both grateful and grief-stricken at the same time?

We don't often talk about this duality: the way becoming someone new often includes grieving who we were. Even when that past version no longer fits, even when the new chapter is something we want or chose.

But it’s there. The ache, the tenderness, the moment where you look in the mirror and feel like parts of you are slipping through your fingers while others are quietly taking form.

Change doesn’t mean something is wrong

We’re allowed to outgrow versions of ourselves — identities we’ve built, roles we’ve claimed, routines we’ve clung to. Even the ones that once felt like home.

There’s no shame in feeling disoriented when those versions start to fall away.
It doesn’t mean you’re lost.
It doesn’t mean you’ve made a mistake.
It just means you’re evolving.

Sometimes change feels like a quiet undoing — not dramatic, but persistent. Like you’re shedding skin slowly, and you don’t yet know what’s underneath.

That’s okay.

You don’t need to rush to ‘figure it out’

There’s so much pressure to be clear, certain, and confident about who we are — especially when others are watching, asking, or expecting.

But identity doesn’t always move in straight lines.
It spirals. It circles back. It reshapes itself through lived experience.

If you’re in a season where the edges of your identity feel soft or blurry — trust that there’s wisdom in the waiting.
You don’t need to force clarity before it’s ready.
You don’t need to rush to define your “next self.”

What if this version — the one in between the old and the new — is already worthy of love?
What if this is the version that needs your compassion most?

Let yourself take up space in the transition. Let the becoming be messy, sacred, and slow.

Gentle prompts for reflection

You don’t need to journal perfectly or find a profound answer. But if it feels nourishing, here are a few questions to sit with:

  • Who am I when I let go of others’ expectations?

  • What parts of me are asking to be seen, softened, or redefined?

  • What have I outgrown — not with shame, but with quiet honesty?

  • What do I want to carry forward from who I’ve been?

  • What version of me is emerging — even if I don’t have the words for her yet?

Let this be a conversation with your inner self, not an interrogation. There’s no finish line to rush toward — only moments to meet yourself again and again.

You don’t have to have it all figured out to trust yourself.
You don’t need to “become” someone else to belong to your life.

You're still you — even if you're shifting.
Even if you're softening.
Even if you're not quite sure where you land next.

And that, in itself, is a powerful kind of knowing.