I miss the woman I was before becoming a mother, and I hate myself for missing her

Dear Delyara, My son is eight months old. I love him so fiercely that sometimes I look at his sleeping face and feel frightened by the size of it. I also miss my old life. I miss leaving the house without calculating feeds, naps, nappies, spare clothes, and the probability of crying in public. I miss work. I miss my body belonging to nobody else. I miss conversations where people ask how I am and do not mean how the baby is sleeping. Then guilt arrives because we wanted him for years. We had fertility treatment. I cried over negative tests and promised I would never complain if I became a mother. Now I complain silently all day. My husband returned to work and comes home tired but still recognizably himself. I look in the mirror and see a person organized around another human being’s needs. People tell me this stage passes quickly and I will miss it. That makes me feel worse. I am apparently failing to appreciate something I once begged for and will later mourn. I love my son. I miss myself. I do not know why those sentences feel like enemies.