Old Things are Passed Away

Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things become new. (2 Corinthians 5:17)

Today’s post delves into the spiritual journey of stepping into the new identity of becoming a mother—a calling that involves releasing the past to embrace the role God has designed. Reflecting on a vivid dream I believe God gave me in preparation for motherhood, we explore how the idea of “losing yourself” may actually be part of God’s process of transforming you into someone new—a vessel set apart for the sacred work of raising children to honor Him.

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Postpartum and the Death of Self: A Reflection God Gave Me on Motherhood

Over a year ago, I had a peculiar dream that stayed with me. In the dream, I had just given birth to my first child. The scene began with me waking from a nap at home, my body still aching from labor and delivery. Everything felt so vivid—almost as though I were truly living it. I could feel the intense soreness my body had from labor, down to the soft skin of our precious little one snuggled against my chest. It seemed so real.

My mother came into the room shortly after I opened my eyes, crying tears of joy. She was still in disbelief that she had her first grandchild, her tears an expression of gratitude to God for blessing our family with new life. True to her nature, she quickly stepped in to help me, taking the baby from my arms to change a leaky diaper I’d put on incorrectly. She didn’t hesitate, even though it made her hands messy.

 I saw my husband and other family were there as well, all full of joy and laughter. The baby was healthy, I was healthy, and we were surrounded by love—a beautiful, heartwarming scene.

But in the quiet moments when my mother left me alone to tend to my child, I became more aware of an odd grief that was within me. It wasn’t sadness about the baby or my new life directly, but rather mourning for who I used to be. 

A distinct phrase escaped my lips as I processed the emotion: “I’m not a kid anymore.”

I began journaling—a practice I often do in real life—and tried to piece together the person I used to be. Memories of carefree goofy laughter and immature jokes with my siblings, cousins, and friends surfaced, but they felt distant, as though they belonged to someone else. I realized I couldn’t connect with that version of myself anymore. 

It was strange, but it felt like the moment this child came into my life, my youth ended. There was a clear line drawn between who I was before and who I had become. When I say youth, I don’t mean the physical changes to my body or appearance. It was deeper than that—a loss of innocence, a sudden and sobering awareness of the weight of responsibility now resting on my shoulders.

I was struggling to reconcile who I had been with who I was now. The person I used to be felt gone—unreachable as if she no longer existed. It was as though the identity I had so carefully crafted over the years, piece by piece, had shattered completely.

It was an odd nostalgia, but more painful. Though it was just a dream, I felt it deeply—a grief so strong that it overshadowed even the soreness in my body from labor.  

The grief I felt was real, a deep and undeniable mourning. It was as if I was witnessing in myself a type of death—a part of me being taken away.

The Making of a New Creature: A War of Flesh and Spirit

Despite the grief, I sensed that this inner turmoil wasn’t meaningless. It felt as if God was using this moment of deep mourning to spiritually reshape me.

I imagine that in the spirit God was shaping me a as a new person with a fresh lump of clay. Creating a new vessel uniquely prepared for the role of motherhood. Remaking my mind so that it could be more focused on nurturing and less focused on self.

His hands carefully depositing into me the things I would need for the work ahead—selflessness, meekness, longsuffering, vigilance, increased wisdom and discernment. While taking away the part of me that said "life is about me". Pride.

An over-dramatization perhaps, but in the dream as I poured the essence of such thoughts into my journal, I could sense that this was no ordinary struggle it was me being put through a refining fire shaping me into a new creature.

My spirit surrendered to this change, eager to step inside the new identity He was making for me, but the flesh did not surrender easily.  

The grief and depression I felt were symptoms of this rebellion—a manifestation of my flesh recoiling against the new thing God was doing. The flesh mourning as it witnessed pieces of itself fade away.

Such is the nature of the flesh. It likes to grasp at the old, reject the new, and rebel against God’s transformative work, choosing instead to whisper reminders of a carefree past that was youthful, unburdened, and free from the weight of the responsibility to come, enticing me to cling to what I used to be.

It was a battle that I knew I would soon overcome.

Letting Your Old Self Pass Away:

The dream ended abruptly, and I woke up, unsettled but fully awake. Lying there, I couldn’t shake the sense that this dream was significant, especially because the dream had other scenes that directly answered prayers my husband and I had just lifted to God. Still, doubt crept in. Could this dream be from the enemy? I didn’t like what I saw, and it clashed with my expectations of motherhood being an easy and joyful transition.

Quietly, I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake my husband, I knelt on the bathroom floor to pray. I poured out my thoughts, asking God for clarity. Over time, He revealed why I needed to see this raw reality.

Motherhood, He showed me, is the creation of a new creature, a profound transformation that requires letting go of the old self. It’s a process that can bring emotional pain but is essential for the calling.

As I prayed, I felt God urging me to prepare for this change even now, to embrace the shedding of self-centeredness and yield to His work in me.

And so, God was teaching me that embracing this transformation—this surrender—would help me navigate the challenges of postpartum and prevent the emotional battles that might follow."

‍Embrace “ Losing Yourself” When You Become a Mother:

It’s hard to articulate how this dream clarified so much, but I believe God sent it as a reminder of things He had been showing me for a while.

I have always been an ambitious person, someone who easily finds herself chasing worldly pursuits, especially career-related ones. But God constantly reminds me that my biggest priority will be motherhood.

He does this by teaching me not to see motherhood as the world sees it. The world often whispers to women—especially mothers—that their worth is tied to how much they achieve beyond motherhood. It encourages them to seek validation through impressive careers, social media influence, changing their appearance to appear youthful, all in an attempt to prove they are more than “just a mom.” (P.S. This isn’t to say that all pursuits during motherhood are inherently wrong or that God may not have additional plans for mothers.)

Too often, women of God chase these things not out of spiritual guidance but from a place of fleshly desire, yearning to return to the spotlight and reclaim center stage.)

However, God-centered motherhood requires a deeper surrender. It calls for the humbling of self—dying to personal ambition, pride, and the desire for recognition. This is where the struggle not to "lose yourself in motherhood" comes into focus.

The world frames this idea as a threat, warning that too much sacrifice will erase your identity. Yet God’s perspective flips this narrative. I believe that in His eyes, you do "lose yourself," but for God’s glory.

He was calling me to step into this transformation, shedding old identities and fully embracing the role of mother. To die to my own self-centered ambitions and be transformed into someone new, equipped for the ministry of motherhood. A role that requires setting aside personal glory to raise children for His glory.

A calling to decrease as Christ increases.

And isn't this sacrificial love, this selfless surrender, echoed in the stories of mothers in Scripture?

In Scripture, many women like Hannah, Elizabeth, and Mary are honored for their role in bringing children into the world—children who play pivotal parts in God’s plan. Yet, their story often ends after they give birth. It's as if they fade into the background of scripture after there monumental act of labor. Why is that?

I believe it’s because they willingly decreased so that God could increase. They stepped so fully into their calling as a mother that everything else after that pointed entirely to Christ.

Every aspect of caring for their little ones—every diaper changed, every meal prepared, every sleepless night, their changing body, their laid down plans—though unseen by the world,  an offering laid before God’s throne as they promoted Christ as the main character.

This is the kind of motherhood God calls us to—a humble ministry of surrender, where our lives are so aligned with His will that He is all that remains visible.

Surrendering to Motherhood Means Not Looking Back:

It's interesting that in my dream, I began to wrestle after I turned my gaze backward, clinging to the memories of a life before motherhood. This desire to revisit the past is where the battle started—hindering the transformation God was doing in me. Luke 9:62 warns, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

‍Once we begin following God we are not to look back. This goes for motherhood as well. Dwelling on the past and wishing for carefree days to return,  only leads to grief and doublemindedness. We are meant to embrace the present season, finding joy and contentment in the new identity He has given us.

Let the old things pass away.

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Dear Sister or perhaps even my future self, remember:

“Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new”

(2 Corinthians 5:17). 

Surrender to motherhood, yield fully to the woman God is making you into.

With love,
Ciara

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