Unexpected pregnancies and rediscovering identity through motherhood

In 2022, I was finally stepping into a dream I had nurtured for years-building something of my own. After quietly supporting others' ambitions and raising my first two children back-to-back, I was ready to give space to a long-shelved vision of personal and professional fulfillment. Just as I began laying the foundations, life took an unexpected turn: I found out I was pregnant again.

At the time, I was already managing two toddlers under the age of three. The news of a third pregnancy didn't bring the excitement it might have under different circumstances. Instead, it triggered a tidal wave of anxiety, exhaustion, and guilt. It's hard to admit this in a society where motherhood is celebrated as the ultimate joy, but the truth is that what is often seen as a blessing sent me into a season of emotional struggle I hadn't anticipated-and frankly, didn't feel prepared for. I couldn't get out of bed, was constantly irritated, and was consumed with deep regret and shame.

Pregnancy, postpartum, and early motherhood are already emotionally and physically demanding seasons. Experiencing them repeatedly without pause made me feel like I was losing the core of who I was. As mothers, especially in Pakistan, we're expected to adapt gracefully, manage our homes and emotions with poise, often without the space to acknowledge our internal battles. I knew I was burning out, and even though I've always believed in the power of therapy, it still took me almost a month to admit that I needed support.

Those early therapy sessions were difficult but necessary. We peeled back layers of guilt, fear, and disappointment. But there was one question my therapist asked that struck me deeply: "What would your dreams and goals look like with another child in the picture?"

That question stayed with me, lingering long after the sessions ended. It slowly transformed the way I looked at my life. Instead of seeing my third child as a detour from my path, I began to imagine how she could become part of the journey itself. Over time, as I reflected and reimagined, the heaviness began to lift. I started adjusting my plans-not abandoning them-trusting that things could still work out, just in a way I hadn't originally envisioned.

During this time, I was fortunate to have the support of my spouse, our families, and access to online mental health resources that helped me maintain a positive mindset. But my heart often turned to the mothers who weren't so lucky-those navigating sleepless nights, self-doubt, and social expectations alone. I thought about how many women silently carry the weight of their families, smiling on the outside while crumbling within, often turning bitter towards other women.

Out of this chapter in my life, the idea for the NAHL Program was born, named after my daughter who arrived during this period. "Nahl," meaning "honey bee" in Arabic, felt like the perfect metaphor. Honey bees are powerful. They work tirelessly and quietly, building and nourishing entire ecosystems-much like mothers. Much like women.

This 10-week, play-based program for women aged 15 and above was designed to remind them of their inner strength and help them find meaning in their lived experiences, especially the ones that feel like setbacks. It was created out of my own need to remember who I was beyond my responsibilities. I wanted to offer a space where other women could do the same.

Motherhood, I've learned, is also about nurturing yourself through all the transitions, joys, and heartbreaks. It's about accepting that sometimes the picture doesn't look like what you planned-and that's okay.

This Mother's Day, I want to honour more than the joy of motherhood. I want to honour the quiet resilience it demands. I want to celebrate the women who are still becoming, even while raising others. I want to offer a moment of recognition to every mother who has ever had to pause her dreams, question her worth, or rebuild her identity from scratch. You are not alone. You are seen. And you are stronger than you think.

Ramsha Nassr is the founder of Bayaan PK, a community-driven initiative dedicated to indigenising mental health tools and resources. An Associate Clinical Psychologist and Play Therapist, she specialises in creating scalable, preventive mental health programs aimed at enhancing accessibility across Pakistan.