Let’s just say it: motherhood is a wild, beautiful, emotionally chaotic ride. And sometimes, it feels more chaotic than beautiful.
One minute, you’re staring lovingly at your baby’s eyelashes (why are they so perfect?), and the next, you’re sobbing into the laundry pile because you accidentally shrunk the only onesie that doesn’t smell like old milk.
Here’s what no one puts on the baby shower card: it’s OK to feel everything. All of it. The good, the bad, the very tired, and the weirdly irrational.
Feeling overwhelmed? That’s normal.
Feeling like a terrible mom because you snapped after your baby’s fifth nap boycott of the day? Also normal. Feeling defeated because the internet said “just swaddle her and she’ll sleep!” but your baby laughs in the face of swaddles?
Welcome to the club.
Motherhood brings a tidal wave of emotions - love, fear, joy, rage, exhaustion, guilt, and, occasionally, that sensation that you might actually be turning into a human burp cloth.
And while social media might show highlight reels of glowing skin and sleeping babies, the real stuff is what you’re feeling in the trenches at 3:17 a.m., wondering if anyone has ever actually died from lack of sleep.
Here’s the truth: you’re not broken. You’re just human.
A human who grew or adopted a whole new person and is now keeping them alive with the sheer force of love, milk, and caffeine. That’s heroic. That’s exhausting. That’s emotional. And you don’t need to “fix” your feelings to be a good mom.
In fact, denying those feelings just makes them louder. So let them be. Let the sad days come. Let the ugly cries happen. Sit with the fear, talk to the overwhelm, pour a cup of something warm (or something bubbly), and tell yourself, “This is just a moment. Not forever.”
Because the truth is: it does get better. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not even next Tuesday. But one day you’ll notice the fog lifting. You’ll feel the sun on your skin again. You’ll laugh without the edge of desperation. Your baby will sleep (eventually), and so will you. You’ll figure it out, one ridiculously long day at a time.
And when you do come out of this haze, you’ll look back with compassion, not judgment. You’ll be proud of the mom who showed up, messy bun and all, even when she felt like hiding under the covers.
So if no one has told you today: You’re doing great.
You’re allowed to feel it all, and you’re not alone. Even if it sometimes feels like you’re on an island made entirely of spit-up and crushed snacks.
We see you, mama. You’ve got this (even when it feels like you don’t).