From Backpacker to Overpacking Mom — There’s No Right or Wrong, Just Adaptation

There was a time when I could fit my whole life into a 40-liter backpack.

A toothbrush, two dresses, a camera, and the kind of freedom that made me feel invincible. I used to wear “minimalism” like a badge of honor, a symbol that I wasn’t weighed down by the world or bending to society’s rules.

It started after CEGEP, in British Columbia, my first backpacking trip with my best friend. Two naïve girls hitchhiking, amazed by everything and nothing. Then came my twenties, in the peak of my earthy-crunchy years, chasing…chaos.

Now, as a mom in her thirties, before leaving the house I pack snacks, wipes, emergency outfits, and an extra sweater just in case.
So you can imagine how packing for a trip abroad has also changed.
I have changed. So has my life. So has my suitcase.

Motherhood has a way of reshaping our definition of enough.
We adapt. We evolve. We trade spontaneity for preparedness, and sometimes that trade feels like a loss. But it’s just a new form of freedom. The kind that comes from being ready for whatever comes next.

For our first family trip, we traveled to Peru and Chile when our daughter was seven months old. We had to think about diapers, a million outfit changes, feedings, “oopsies,” and tiny shoes that fell off every five minutes.

When you start reading travel group chats for parents, you realize — yes, it’s the mental load, but also the insecurity it brings.

Can I bring pumped breast milk on a plane?
Can I breastfeed in public everywhere in the world?
What if we run out of our formula brand — are they the same abroad?
Are diaper sizes universal?
Are “all-inclusive” resorts actually baby-inclusive?
Do Airbnbs have cribs?
Will co-sleeping for a week ruin our routine?
Can my baby fly on my lap?

Travel crib, travel stroller, travel toys, travel fan…
Is sunscreen abroad better or worse than the one I use at home?

And then there’s nap planning: The invisible art form every parent becomes an expert in.
How long is the drive from the airport to the hotel? Will she nap in the stroller or only in a dark, silent room?
Some days, we try to choreograph it all. Other days, we just pray she’ll fall asleep before takeoff. Either way, it becomes part of the itinerary, not an afterthought, but the quiet rhythm around which everything else revolves.

Most of these questions would never cross our minds if we were traveling alone.
But when it comes to our children , especially for the first time, it’s a rabbit hole.

I used to see packing light as proof that I was carefree.
Now I see that being prepared is its own kind of peace.
And over time, I’ve learned to choose my travel “sources” and gear according to the kind of traveler — and mother — I’ve become.

This year, our daughter is a toddler. I had the chance to travel with her twice: once to Mexico for a wedding, and once to Croatia, where her dad was waiting after months at sea. Both trips were very different — and both required a different kind of packing.

A stroller in Mexico for late nights; none in Croatia — cobblestone streets and extra arms for carrying the tired child.
In Mexico, she was still in daytime diapers; in Croatia, she wasn’t. That’s half a suitcase less to carry. This time, I could bring a few and buy more once there.

In Mexico, our room was within walking distance, so I could slide in a nap anytime the terrible twos decided it was time.
In Croatia, we winged it the best we could which led to discovering the hotel pods during our long layover in Amsterdam. (Yes, the investment was absolutely worth the shower and that brief, glorious peace before the next flight.)

I’m still adjusting to thinking for two, to packing more than what’s truly needed, because I’m trying to predict the unpredictable.
Sometimes it feels like being a tourist in my own existence.

There’s already a huge difference between the trips we’ve taken with our girl. The content of our bags changes with each stage of her growth. New challenges, new needs, new forms of adaptation.

Maybe that’s what travel and motherhood are both teaching me: that freedom isn’t found in control, but in our capacity to adapt.

I loved my backpacking season. It felt courageous, sometimes dangerous.
And I love my overpacking-mom season. It feels like I can introduce adventures to my daughter without stress, like I still allow myself to live.

The backpack might be gone, but the freedom? It’s just taken a new form.
And who knows maybe one day, I’ll swap my suitcase for a backpack again, while my daughter plans the itinerary for the both of us…