Finding My Style After Motherhood - Part 1

The inner shift that came before the wardrobe one

Let’s get one thing straight: I don’t believe you “find” your style like it’s a one-time event you can check off a list. Style evolves because we evolve. Why should this part of us stay static? I went from being a woman in her early thirties to becoming a mom - that was a big change. Is that why I found my style? Or would it have eventually happened, just by getting older and knowing myself better? Who knows. What matters is this: I started feeling like myself when I got dressed.

It didn’t happen right after becoming a mom - it took a while. During pregnancy, I felt like an actress playing a temporary role. I wore clothes I never would’ve worn in my “real” life: fitted tops, feminine dresses, soft pastel tones. I’d always disliked those things before, so why I suddenly liked them during those months is still a mystery to me. Maybe I thought looking like the other moms would help me feel like one.

Pregnancy-me: wearing things I wouldn’t normally choose, still figuring out who I was becoming...

I gave birth to my daughter in June 2020—yep, right at the start of COVID. Not ideal timing. I don’t know how different that experience might’ve been in “normal” times, but that first year? Brutal. I used to picture myself as one of those cool moms shopping with her sleeping baby, sipping a Starbucks coffee - tired, but serene and happy. Turns out, my baby was not the kind who peacefully sleeps in a carrier. She cried most of the day (and night) unless she was in my arms. Needless to say, fashion - or anything unrelated to her - was the last thing on my mind.

2020. One of a hundred quiet days at home. Not much fashion but a whole lot of love (and tiredness).

During that time, I wore what was practical and what seemed to be the mom uniform I saw around me: sporty comfy clothes or long, loose dresses when I needed to look “dressed up” (the kind with buttons or snaps for easy nursing access). I didn’t have the brainpower to wear anything else.

Motherhood is challenging. It was during that first year, it still is five years later, and it probably always will be. But it also taught me a lot about myself. At first, that started with my body. Of course it had changed. I won’t pretend I embraced it right away - that would be a lie. It’s hard to accept so many changes when you're exhausted and hormonal.

But I couldn’t get over what my body had done: it made a human. The most perfect little human. That shifted something in me. I started treating my body like a partner that could help me achieve great things, instead of focusing on what I didn’t like about it. Slowly, I began taking better care of myself. Eating better, drinking more water, moving more. It didn’t happen overnight, but after a year or two, I could honestly say: I accepted my new body the way it was.

And then - surprise - I was pregnant again. I went through the same costume-phase with my maternity clothes (mostly because I kept the same ones), but my son’s first year was easier. Whether it was him or us, I was less stressed. We could go out. I knew he would be our last baby, and I found myself excited - not to “get my old body back,” but to get myself back. Not just be my kids’ human, but also be me.

Just the thought of wearing a dress that wasn’t breastfeeding-friendly felt like a fantasy. IYKYK.

Feels like forever ago but this was summer 2023. I wore this (very nursing friendly) dress more times than I’d like to admit.

When I stopped nursing my son, my love for clothes came rushing back. I felt like I’d been released from fashion jail (dramatic, yes - but also true). I could wear what I wanted again. Looking back, it’s wild that I thought I couldn’t - or shouldn’t - during that time. Like focusing on myself would’ve been selfish, when in reality, it would’ve been a pretty damn good idea.

It’s funny, because even though I’d appreciated fashion for as long as I can remember, I never took the time to figure out my style before having kids. I always had confidence in myself, wore what I wanted, but now it felt different. Just like I wanted to be the best mom for my kids, I now wanted to be the best version of myself. I wanted to feel great and look put-together - every day.

At first, I overdid it. With both kids now in daycare and my wardrobe needing a full refresh (new body, new lifestyle, and all that jazz), I dove headfirst into fashion as my “new project.” I researched everything: seasonal color analysis, Kibbe body types, the 3-word-method. I made Pinterest boards, wishlists, capsule wardrobe templates. I followed all the influencers whose styles I admired.

But I was trying to find all the answers without asking the right questions.

Eventually, I slowed down and turned inward. I started asking: What do I actually like? What feels like me - not what a “Kibbe Dramatic” or a “Cool Summer” or a thirty-something mom is supposed to wear. All those frameworks were helpful, but they weren’t the answer. Motherhood, in its raw, relentless way, had already taught me to trust my gut over outside opinions. That instinct carried over into how I dressed. I stopped caring what made sense to anyone else. I just wanted to feel good in my own skin and my own clothes.

And once I focused on that, I finally started to enjoy getting dressed again.

2024. Wearing two of my first “bigger” purchases that finally felt like me (the coat and the bag).

That shift - from feeling lost in my clothes to feeling like myself - didn’t happen overnight. It took small, intentional steps. In part two, I’ll share the things that genuinely helped me reconnect with my style. Not rules, not trends - just what worked for me. Maybe some of it will work for you, too.

And just to say: you don’t have to be a mom to feel disconnected from yourself, or to want more from getting dressed. We all deserve to feel good in our clothes - whoever we are, whatever season we’re in.

Thanks for being here and reading this far - it truly means a lot. If this resonates with you, feel free to subscribe so you don’t miss the next part. I’d love to have you along for the ride.