May is the month when we celebrate Mother’s Day, and it is also Mental Health Awareness Month. So I decided to write about both of them.
The moment you learn you are expecting a baby, life takes a different turn. From that point on, everything revolves around the baby—its well-being, its health, the financial security you can provide, and its safety.
And when the baby arrives, the joy of holding your little one for the first time is unmatched.
Then come the saga of the sleepless nights ,The constant cycle of feeding,changing diapers, soothing, and worrying . Your world shifts overnight, and somehow, you are expected to just know what to do. You question yourself more than you ever have before:
Am I doing enough? Am I doing this right?
But that doesn’t mean you can pause or quit— there is no time for that. You have to keep showing up.
We often tell new parents to “soak it all in,” and yes, there is so much to soak in.
But what we don’t talk about enough is this: sometimes, alongside all that love and joy, there are emotions we didn’t expect.
For some mothers, the overwhelm doesn’t settle. It deepens. it often comes wrapped in uncertainty, sleepless nights, and quiet moments of self-doubt.
Some days it feels like you have got it all together; other days it feels like you are falling apart, like you are failing.
It’s not just exhaustion.
It’s not just “baby blues.”
It’s something heavier—something harder to name.
Postpartum depression is real.
And it doesn’t always look the way people imagine. It isn’t always tears or visible sadness. Sometimes, it shows up as numbness. As irritability. As feeling disconnected from yourself, or even from your baby. Sometimes, it’s guilt—the kind that sits quietly but heavily in your heart, making you question everything.
And perhaps the hardest part? The silence around it.
Because how do you admit you are struggling during what is supposed to be the happiest time of your life?
How do you say out loud that you don’t feel the way you thought you would?
I remember when I became a mom for the first time—I was excited and supported. My husband was a stay-at-home dad, and together we found our rhythm in the chaos.
But when I became a mom for the second time, things were very different.
After the first couple of months, the help slowly disappeared. It was just me and the children. There was no one else. The days felt longer, the nights even longer. I struggled more than I had expected to—eating cereal for dinner became my reality.
I couldn’t juggle it all. I let my career go, and with it went the financial independence I once had. There was no time alone, no friends, no colleagues, no date nights, no pauses to catch my breath. It was a constant giving of myself in every direction.
I pushed through, holding on, looking at their faces and telling myself I had to keep going.
And I did.
But if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t advise that path.
Pushing through in silence is not strength—it is survival.
Somewhere along the way, we created this idea that a “good mother” is always grateful, always glowing, always holding it together. So many mothers carry their struggles quietly. They smile when they are expected to smile. They say “I’m fine” because it feels easier than explaining the storm inside.
But real motherhood is not one emotion.
It is love and exhaustion.
Joy and doubt.
Connection and, at times, loneliness.
And strength? Strength is not pretending everything is okay.
Strength is acknowledging when it’s not.
It’s asking for help. It’s opening up to a friend, a partner, a doctor. It’s allowing yourself to say, “This is hard,” without attaching guilt to it.
Because it is hard.
And you are not alone.
If there is one thing I would say to any new mother, it is this: please ask for help. Don’t wait until you are overwhelmed. Don’t convince yourself you have to do it all on your own.
So yes, soak it all in—but not just the picture-perfect moments. Soak in the truth of it all: the beauty and the struggle, the laughter and the tears, the parts that fill your heart and the parts that stretch it in ways you never imagined.
Because sometimes, soaking it all in also means allowing yourself to feel what no one prepared you for—and knowing that it doesn’t make you any less of a mother.
It makes you human.
If you’ve ever felt this way, you’re not alone. 🤍
I’d love to hear from you—did any part of this resonate?
And if you are reading this, please check on the mothers around you who may be quietly overwhelmed as I write this.
https://www.rekhasrambling.com/2023/09/my-self-care-journey.html
Comments