For The New Mumma – You’re Not Alone

When you feel like no one understands what you’re going through… I do. When you feel like you just can’t anymore… you can. And when when you don’t have the words to express “how it’s going” feel free to share these words.
Instead of telling a new mom she looks good, why don’t we ask about the elephant in the room? How is it going so far? How is your transition into motherhood been? How can I help? You know why we don’t ask questions like these? Because we are afraid of the truth. The authentic truth. And this fear hurts us as new mummas.
We expect motherhood to be this beautiful happy life that we should embrace every moment of. But the truth is…it’s hard, really hard. All of it. Getting pregnant, losing a baby, carrying to full term, labor and delivery, recovery while taking care of a new human you just met and are trying to figure out how to keep alive, breastfeeding, leaving your job to become a stay at home mom and yes going back to work.
But that’s OK. You’re not alone. We all have our challenges. That’s why we need to be real with one another.
Be honest.
Be authentic.
It’s OK to need help. It’s good to ask for help, and it’s best to learn how to communicate “I need help.” Having a baby changes every relationship you have and this in turn makes communicating more of a challenge.
So if you find your sleep deprived self without the words to express how you feel,

here’s a start (…take a look!)


…and if you asked me those honest questions when I became a Mumma, this is what I would have told you…


For The New Mumma

“In pregnancy you’re doted upon. You are showered with compliments, each one pushing you a little bit further up the mountain. What is this mountain made of? I’m still not sure.
Maybe it’s made of the confidence you get from people telling you you’re glowing, or it’s built of the pressure you and others push you to feel as a new expecting mom.
But I do know labor and delivery is at the peak. All eyes on you because it’s show time.
Ten months of excitement nervousness and preparing for your little bundle of joy to be placed safely in your arms.
Then, once you leave the hospital or maybe even sooner if you had a complicated birth and suffered sever injuries like me, you fall.
That mountain you took ten months to climb is no longer supporting your feet and you free fall.
It’s dark, wet, alone and there’s lots of crying on your way down. You can’t rest, cant think, can’t even see straight until you hit the bottom.
Suddenly you’re on solid ground as your eyes begin to focus.
The fog fades and you see light for the first time.
Maybe it’s your first six hours of uninterrupted sleep or her first real smile that catches you.
Maybe it’s when she’s wrapped in her hooded fox towel after a bath, cooing and she looks at you…
But this time she really sees you, straight through you and everything just stops.
The gaze from her big brown eyes holds you. And as you breathe out slowly, you realize you created a beautiful little being…
You’re Her Mumma.
Now together, you’re climbing a new mountain.”

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