Nobody Warned Me About the Quiet

They warn you about wrinkles.
They joke about hot flashes.
They sell creams and supplements and elastic waistbands and sleep aids.

But you know what no one really talks about?

The quiet.

Not just the quiet in the house.
The quiet inside yourself — the space that opens up after the noise and chaos have moved on.

I Became a Mom at 18

While other girls my age were figuring out who they were, I was figuring out feedings, diaper changes, and how to raise a whole human.

Motherhood didn’t interrupt my life — it became my life.

It wasn’t a title I added to my identity. It was my identity.
Mom. That’s who I was. That’s what I answered to. That’s what I poured my soul into — every single day.

And I loved it. Every loud, messy, sleepless, joy-filled second of it.

But what they don’t tell you is this:
When the house gets quiet… when the kids leave for college or their own lives… that noise you used to complain about?
You’ll miss it with your whole chest.

When the House Got Still

I remember standing in the kitchen one morning after my youngest left for school.
Coffee in hand.
No cartoons on.
No backpacks on the floor.
Just me.
Just quiet.

And I suddenly realized...
I didn’t know who I was outside of being someone’s mom.

I had spent my entire adult life wrapped in that role — willingly, proudly.
But that morning, in that strange, echoey stillness, a question rose up from somewhere deep:

Who am I now?

Not Lost — Just Unfamiliar

The answer didn’t come right away.
It came slowly, gently, in pieces.
In silent mornings.
In the absence of to-do lists and carpool lines.
In grocery store aisles where no one was asking for snacks.

I wasn’t lost.
I wasn’t broken.
I was just… unfamiliar to myself.

It wasn’t that I stopped being “Mom.”
That part of me is eternal — tattooed on my soul.
But it was the first time in decades I had the space to ask:
Who is Brandy when no one needs her?
And that question? It cracked something open in me.

The Quiet Isn’t Empty — It’s Sacred

At first, the silence felt sad. Heavy, even.

But now?
Now I’m learning to see it as space.
Space to rest.
Space to dream again.
Space to meet the woman I’ve become — not just the mom I’ve always been.

This quiet season isn’t a void.
It’s a return.
Not to the woman I was before kids — but to the woman I never really had time to fully know.

If You’re in That Season Too…

I see you.

If the stillness is louder than you expected…
If you're slowly rediscovering the pieces of yourself that motherhood put on pause…
You are not empty.
You are expanding.

You are still a mother. That never leaves you.
But you are also more.

More than their schedule.
More than their safety net.
More than the meals, the rides, the answers, the plans.

You’re a woman who gave her whole heart to raising a family —
and now gets to turn some of that love and intention inward.

Tell Me This…

Have you reached this quiet season?

Is it peaceful for you? Confusing? Beautiful?
All of the above?

I’d love to know how you’re moving through it.
Drop a comment or message me privately — you don’t have to sort it all out alone.

With Love from Mabank,

🖤Brandy