I love my daughter more than anything in the world. I need to say that first because everything I'm about to share might make you think otherwise, and that's part of the problem. We've created a culture where being honest about how hard motherhood is gets interpreted as not loving your child enough.
Nobody told me about the hormone crash. The baby blues hit me like a wall on day three. I was crying at everything — a commercial, the way my husband looked at the baby, the fact that my body didn't feel like mine anymore. I was exhausted in a way I didn't know was possible. The kind of tired where your bones ache and you forget words mid-sentence.
The hardest part of postpartum for me wasn't the physical recovery. It was the identity crisis. One day I was just me — a person with hobbies and interests and a social life. The next day I was someone's mom and nothing else seemed to matter to anyone anymore. I love being a mom but I also missed being just me. And I felt guilty for missing it.
Therapy. Full stop. Finding a therapist who specializes in postpartum was the single best thing I did for myself and for my baby. Also — letting people help. I spent weeks trying to do everything myself because I thought that's what good moms do. It's not. Good moms ask for help. Good moms take breaks.
If you're a new mom reading this and you're in the thick of it — it gets better. Not overnight. Not in a straight line. But it does get better. And you are enough, even on the days when it doesn't feel like it.
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