Six months postpartum, and somehow it feels like I’ve been taking care of this little girl for years.
On one hand, I love her more than I ever thought possible. On the other, I am so deeply sleep deprived that I barely recognize the woman I used to be.
I often wonder how many women can truly relate to the challenges of breastfeeding—especially when it becomes more than nourishment and turns into a nighttime comfort, a pacifier, a constant need. We have this beautiful wooden bassinet that attaches right to the edge of our bed, meant to give her her own space while still feeling close. In reality, it doesn’t get used much.
(I’ll link a few of the sleep and postpartum essentials that have helped us along the way at the end of this post.)
I try. I really do.
I’ve tried placing her in it, feeding her while she’s lying down, gently helping her drift off to sleep in her own space. And it works… for about 30 to 40 minutes. Then she wakes, searching for me again.
This isn’t a success story.
This is a “this is how it’s going right now” story.
I love the closeness. I love sleeping next to her, feeling her little body curled into mine. But I also miss sleep—real, uninterrupted sleep. The kind that allows you to wake up feeling like yourself. The kind that gives you the energy to be the mom and wife you want to be.
I see women on Instagram and YouTube who make motherhood look effortless. Their homes are spotless, meals are made from scratch, everything looks calm and put together. And I find myself wondering… how?
Because I’ve always considered myself someone who has it together. But lately, some days the best I can do is get out of bed, brush my hair, make a cup of coffee, and eat a bowl of oatmeal. There are even days I forget to brush my teeth—which feels embarrassing to admit, but it’s real.
On those days, I lean on the little things that make life easier—simple breakfasts, quick routines, anything that helps me feel just a little more like myself again.
Then there are the days when I do more. The days I feel productive, capable, maybe even like I’ve turned a corner. But motherhood has quickly taught me that every day is different. My daughter is changing constantly—learning, growing, needing new things—and I’m doing my best to keep up.
As someone who struggled to get pregnant with PCOS, I don’t take a single day with her for granted. She is everything I hoped and prayed for. I want her to be happy, healthy, and deeply loved. And I remind myself often that this season—this sacrifice—is not forever.
But it is real.
It is quiet, unseen, and often unspoken. Not everyone knows what goes on in these long nights and exhausting days. Not everyone sees what new mothers are carrying.
So if you’re in a season like this too—if you feel stretched thin, exhausted, and still so full of love—please know this:
You are not alone.
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