Dear new mum,
If you’re reading this with one hand while feeding, rocking, scrolling, or trying not to cry, this is for you.
You probably didn’t expect it to feel like this.
Not just tired. Not just emotional. But deeply undone in ways you couldn’t have imagined before you were holding a tiny human who depends on you for absolutely everything.
Everyone told you it would be hard.
No one told you it would feel this personal.
Right now, you might be wondering if you’re doing any of it right. If you’re feeding enough. If you’re bonding enough. If you’re missing something everyone else seems to instinctively know. You might be grieving your old life while desperately loving this new one, and then feeling guilty for even admitting that.
Let me say this clearly, because you probably need to hear it more than once.
You are doing better than you think.
You don’t feel confident yet because confidence comes later. It comes quietly, after hundreds of small moments that don’t feel like wins at the time. It comes after the feeds you thought you messed up. After the nights you counted down until morning. After the days you showered at 4pm and called it an achievement.
You don’t feel strong because you’re tired.
But strength doesn’t always feel powerful. Sometimes it feels like showing up again when you don’t want to. Sometimes it feels like holding your baby while silently crying because you don’t recognise yourself yet.
No one tells you how confronting it is to suddenly exist in a body that feels unfamiliar. Or how heavy it can feel to be needed constantly while simultaneously feeling invisible. Or how lonely it can be, even when you’re surrounded by people asking how the baby is.
You might look at other mums and think they’ve got it together. That they’re calmer. More natural. More capable. But what you’re seeing is a moment, not the full picture. You’re not seeing the tears in the car, the Googling at midnight, the quiet fear that they’re messing it all up too.
Because here’s the truth: most of us are figuring it out one hour at a time.
You don’t need to love every moment to be a good mum.
You don’t need to feel grateful every second.
You don’t need to “cherish it” while you’re exhausted and sore and overwhelmed.
You’re allowed to find this hard and still be a good mother.
You’re allowed to miss your old life and still love your baby fiercely.
You’re allowed to need help without feeling like you’re failing.
You’re allowed to put your baby down safely and take a breath.
If today all you did was keep your baby fed, warm, and safe, that was enough. If today you snapped, cried, or felt like you were barely holding it together, you’re still enough. This season isn’t about perfection. It’s about survival, softness, and learning who you are now.
You didn’t lose yourself.
You’re meeting a new version of you.
She’s tired, yes. But she’s also learning, adapting, and growing in ways that are invisible right now. One day you’ll look back and realise how much you carried during this time. Not just a baby, but responsibility, love, fear, and expectation.
If no one has told you today, let this be the reminder.
You are not failing.
You are not behind.
You are not weak for finding this hard.
You are doing the most important work you will ever do, even when it feels messy, lonely, and unglamorous.
So be gentle with yourself tonight.
Lower the bar.
Let the house be loud or messy or quiet or whatever it needs to be.
Trust that this version of you is enough for this moment.
Because she is.
And one day, when you’re further from these early weeks, you’ll see it clearly.
You were doing better than you thought all along.
