I’m sitting here writing, partly to validate my own experience and, hopefully, to validate yours as well. This new chapter can feel like a roller coaster. Even for those of us who usually feel grounded and steady, there are days when it all feels overwhelming. Today happens to be one of those days for me.
But while today feels heavy, I know that tomorrow I’ll wake up with a renewed sense of love and joy for the little one who smiles up at me the moment I say hello. And though your tomorrow might look different, I know it holds something new for you, too.
But for now, we are going to let today be today and feel all the feelings.
Let’s take a moment to honor the blissful naivety that exists before bringing a baby home.
Looking back, it feels almost like a fantasy. To keep it real: you truly don’t know until you’re in it.
And now? I get it.
I get it now, mama - the flood of joy of your little one’s arrival that simultaneously unlocks a new world of what ifs. The what ifs that can range from rapid fire worst case scenarios, uncharted levels of self-doubt, and the occasional good what ifs about what your little one will be when they grow up. The latter often come few and far between.
I get it now, mama— the tears that come out of nowhere, the ones that flow from deep rooted joy and the ones that flow from grief; old and new as you navigate this new chapter.
I get it now, mama—the whirlwind of emotions that comes with longing for someone to ask how you’re doing, while also feeling completely drained and unable to respond or engage.
I get it now, mama—the bittersweet mix of joy in seeing how much others love and want to be around this new little life, and the challenge of navigating and setting new boundaries in a space where you still feel so new yourself.
I get it now, mama—gazing at and honoring the body that carried and brought your little one earthside, while also grappling with the reality that parts of you may feel unrecognizable or forever changed.
I get it now, mama—the mental overload, the exhaustion, and the overwhelm of trying to figure out how to care for yourself, your little one, your marriage, and everything else in your life, all at once.
I get it now, mama—the surge of energy that seems to exist solely for caring for your little one, while feeling completely drained when it comes to anything or anyone else.
I get it now, mama and partners—the complexity of wanting to prioritize and connect with each other, yet feeling completely overwhelmed and overstimulated.
I get it now, mama—the stress of wanting or needing to ask for help, while knowing your partner is navigating this life change too, just in their own way.
I get it now, mama—how you try to honor the hormonal fluctuations that come with this journey, while also feeling the weight of expectations—whether from yourself or others—to “bounce back” quickly and flawlessly.
I get it now, mama—wondering how all those check-ins during your pregnancy have faded into radio silence during these postpartum days, when you might need them the most.
I get it now, mama—how the days pass in the blink of an eye, yet the sleepless nights feel endlessly long and exhausting.
I get it now, mama—that inner conflict between letting your baby nap on your chest so they get the rest they need and feeling the weight of the bottles that need cleaning and the laundry piling up in the other room.
I get it now, mama—how unsettling it feels when your parenting decisions are questioned or dismissed, instead of being encouraged, honored, and understood.
I get it now, mama—the overwhelming flood of information coming at you, whether you sought it out or it was served to you unsolicited, through a social media reel or a well-meaning family member convinced they know best.
I get it now, mama—the emotional complexity of wanting to return to work, while feeling terrified and heartbroken at the thought of leaving your little one with anyone but you or your partner.
I get it now, mama—the uncertainty of how to balance all the “hats” you wear, while feeling like the only role you can focus on—or that truly matters—is “mom.”
I get it now. All of it. And while this list is far from complete, I hope reading it brings you the same sense of peace and validation that writing it has brought me.
No, I don’t have tips, tricks, or quick fixes for any of this right now. But I do know that simply acknowledging the experience for what it is can be healing in and of itself.
So, I get it. And maybe for those of you reading this who aren’t or haven’t been in the throes of postpartum, I hope you can “get it” too.
I hope tomorrow brings you a cup of coffee that doesn’t need to be reheated before you take your first sip, baby smiles and giggles that greet you with pure love, and a quiet reassurance that we’re all just winging it. What you’re doing and who you are is more than enough.
So, like me, I encourage you to stop listening to that influencer or well-meaning sister who says you’re spoiling your baby if you do x-y-z. Instead, hold your little one close, who seeks nothing but comfort in your arms, take a deep breath, and remember—the laundry and dishes can wait.
I see you. You’re doing great.
Aimee Strange, LPCC 14132
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