This weekend, I binge-watched the new Victoria Beckham documentary on Netflix.
If you’re a British millennial like me, then you’ll understand what I mean when I say that Posh and Becks were royalty growing up. They were it, the power couple. He was football’s golden boy, she was the epitome of every young girls dream of girl power - together, they were perfection.
But as I watched Victoria peel back the layers of her life in this documentary, I realised how much we didn’t see. Or how much we chose to ignore, I should say. I want to focus on just two moments that struck me the hardest — two that made me sit there in silence, realizing that this Queen of a woman who I had adored from adar for years, was just like the rest of us - a mother, struggling to block out the noise of the world and find her inner self.
Victoria shared that she was weighed on national television just six months after giving birth to her first child.
Six months.
I actually felt fury and outraged for her, when she shared that - because I remembered coming home from the hospital with my firstborn - swollen, stitched, sore, and utterly confused. I remember standing in front of the mirror and not recognizing myself. I remember crying because I didn't recognise my body, I felt disgusted with myself for not "bouncing back" literally straight after giving birth. No one reminded me that my muscles had shifted, that my body was healing from literal trauma. That it had taken 9 months to grow life inside me, and I was judging myself so heavily not even 9 days after.
We are taught to believe that birth ends the moment the baby arrives. But in truth, that’s when the real unraveling begins.The body you once knew becomes foreign. The woman you were feels lost. And the world expects you to bounce back, smile, and post a picture in a matching outfit with your baby like you haven’t just been split in half, emotionally, mentally, and physically.
Seeing Victoria, a woman who seemingly had everything, be publicly shamed and reduced to a number on a scale made me realize just how deep this collective sickness runs - this obsession with women’s bodies, this pressure to “snap back.” If you’re a new mother reading this, please hear me: your body is not the enemy. It is evidence of creation. You owe it grace, not punishment.
There’s another part of the documentary where Victoria talks about how people always said she looked “grumpy.” But then she admits, she was unhappy. She was struggling. She was lost.
My heart broke for her, I know how that feels and I can't imagine how much harder it is when you have press following you everywhere, and everyone thinks you have the best life as a WAG, making you feel further alienated and alone.
I went through a lot of different phases after having my children, and there was a while when I just sat with anger for so long. I didn’t even know why half the time. I felt let down by the people around me, trapped by my own emotions, overwhelmed by life.Something as small as someone honking at me in traffic could ruin my whole day. I stopped going out. I stopped talking. I thought if I could just keep everything quiet and controlled, I wouldn’t fall apart. But the truth is, I was already breaking, it was just showing up as anger and resentment rather that pain and grief at that point.
And that’s the thing, we never really know what someone is carrying behind their “grumpy” face, their silence, or their apparent coldness. So often, it’s not attitude - it’s exhaustion. It’s grief. It’s someone trying to hold themselves together in a world that doesn’t give mothers permission to fall apart.
Victoria said she had to find her passion again. She had to rebuild herself from scratch.
And motherhood does that to you - it cracks you open. It forces you to meet the parts of yourself you’ve buried, the wounds you never healed, the dreams you left behind. For some women, that growth revolves around their children - building a home, raising little humans with love and patience. But for others, it’s about rediscovering themselves - healing the child within, chasing the dreams they once put on pause, learning that fullfillment doesn’t make you less of a mother; it makes you whole.
The most powerful part of healing, I’ve learned, comes after the anger.
Because once the rage settles, once the fog lifts, something beautiful happens: you find kindness again. Not just for others - but for yourself. You start to realize that the woman next to you at the school gate, the friend who hasn’t replied in weeks, the stranger who snapped at you - they’re all fighting silent battles too. Everyone is just trying to keep it together.
That understanding softens you. It humbles you. It teaches you compassion.
Victoria Beckham’s story reminded me that nothing - not fame, not money, not beauty - can protect you from the ache of being human.
We are all just trying to find meaning, connection, and peace.
So if you’re in a season of anger, confusion, or exhaustion, know that it’s okay. It’s not permanent. Healing takes time and that’s what motherhood gives you: time to become someone new.
Be gentle with yourself. Find your passion, your people, your purpose. And remember - behind every “grumpy” face, there’s often a woman who just needs a little more love.
Because motherhood doesn’t just make you a mother - it makes you meet yourself again.
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