You haven't vanished, mama. You're just in the middle of becoming. And becoming is messy, exhausting, and absolutely beautiful. Motherhood pulls pieces of you in every direction until you swear you've disappeared. But you're still here. Just buried under the weight of long nights, tiny hands, and endless giving. You will rise again. Not as the woman you once were, but as the woman you were meant to grow into. This isn't the end of you. It's the quiet beginning of a stronger, softer, braver you. And when the time comes, you'll bloom in ways you never imagined.