The dream isn’t gone. You’re just in a different season

When I was young, I had a very clear picture of what my creative life would look like. I imagined strolling down Hickson Road and entering the stage door at STC for work. A steady stream of auditions, dropping into classes, writing in cafes. Rehearsals, opening nights, festivals, and book launches.

I also knew with certainty that I wanted to be a mum. Both dreams mattered deeply to me, and I assumed they would fit together quite neatly!

What I don’t think I fully understood was how those two dreams would have to learn to live alongside each other. Sometimes harmoniously, sure — but more often than not butting up against each other, pushing each other aside, both vying for my full attention, and neither ever quite getting it.

When I first became a mother, my priorities shifted. My world re-centred around my new baby. I didn’t forget my creative dreams, but I absolutely had to adjust them.

The uninterrupted hours became shorter, my definition of a productive day shifted, and I crammed in my creative work between naps and breastfeeds. I couldn’t always act on the latest great idea or say yes to that new project. I had to jot things down, store them, and trust that they would still be there when I came back.

For a long while, I measured myself against an older version of my life: the woman who could disappear into a rehearsal room for a whole day, spend hours writing without looking at the clock, or say yes to opportunities without first checking the family calendar and sorting childcare.

I think a lot of creative mothers recognise that feeling. A quiet grief for the freedom you once had, existing alongside a fierce gratitude for what you have now.

Don’t get me wrong: I adore being a mother. It’s one of the greatest joys of my life, and I genuinely believe I’ve found one of my true callings in raising my boys. At the same time, I still love acting, writing, sitting in a dark theatre, walking into a writers’ festival and dreaming about the next story I want to tell.

So I’ve stopped trying to squeeze myself back into the shoes I wore before children. Metaphorically, but also… my feet grew a whole size during pregnancy, so they wouldn’t fit me now anyway!

And I don't actually want to go backwards. There’s a whole lot of pressure on mums to ‘bounce back’, in more ways than one, but a wise friend once said to me that we don’t bounce back; we only bounce forward.

Motherhood has changed me in ways that have made my work richer. Caring for a baby forced me to slow down and be in the moment. Raising a toddler has brought out a new assertive side in me. I'm fascinated by the invisible work women do every day, by the compromises we make, the resilience we build, and the extraordinary strength that women must find to cope with some of the pain the world throws at us. 

And maybe that’s why I no longer see this season as a pause. Yes, without a doubt, there are days when I wish I could have one hour without being interrupted, or another evening free to go to the theatre.

But a creative life isn't measured only by opening nights, published books, or the next role. Sometimes it's measured by staying connected to the thing you love, even when life asks you to engage with it differently. It's choosing to keep reading, to keep noticing, to keep writing a paragraph when you don't have time for a chapter, trusting that all of those small moments are building towards something bigger.

So if you’re in a season where your creative life looks different from the one you imagined, whether you’re raising children, caring for someone you love, or simply navigating a chapter that demands your attention elsewhere, I hope you’ll give yourself some grace. (And I’ll try to do the same for myself!) Because our dreams haven’t disappeared or become smaller. 

And they certainly haven't passed us by.
It may simply be unfolding at a different pace, gathering new experiences and new perspectives.
I don’t think that’s a compromise at all. It might just be the making of better work.