The Part of Motherhood We Don’t Talk About Enough

What No One Saw Me Carrying

Throughout the last year, I don’t think I fully realized what I was carrying until one day I looked at myself in the mirror and felt like me again.

It was such a simple moment, but it hit me hard — because I hadn’t felt like myself in a long time.

I think postpartum mental health is something that still isn’t talked about enough. It comes up often in conversations with my mom friends, usually in passing, like we all know it exists but don’t always slow down enough to really feel what it looks like.

And for me, there was another layer added on top of it all:

Grief.

While navigating motherhood, hormones, identity shifts, and the weight that can come after having babies… I was also carrying personal loss.

With Graham, things felt different.

I had gone into that season after an already difficult year marked by the loss of family members I loved deeply. Grief was already sitting heavy on my shoulders before postpartum ever entered the picture.

That’s where my story feels a little different than what people may picture when they hear postpartum depression or anxiety. I still want to talk about it, because not every struggle looks the same.

First, I want to say this clearly: I love my boys. I love children. And Austin and I hope to continue growing our family someday, God willing.

So what I’m about to share isn’t about regret.

It’s about honesty.

When I had Graham, Hughes’ daycare had just shut down. That meant I was heading into maternity leave with both boys home full-time, while recovering physically, adjusting emotionally, and trying to care for a newborn and a two-year-old at the same time.

And I was struggling.

Graham wasn’t the easiest baby, and we also had a busy toddler needing attention. There were moments I sat on the floor crying, wondering when the crying would stop — his and mine.

It felt hard to get myself out of the house. Hard to feel motivated. Hard to feel like myself.

There was tension in Austin and my relationship at times, not because we didn’t love each other, but because I felt disconnected from myself outside of just surviving the day.

At the time, I didn’t fully realize what I was experiencing may have been depression. I still enjoyed parts of my life. I could still be social. I still felt grateful for the blessings right in front of me.

From the outside, I’m not sure anyone would have known something was off.

But looking back now, I can see it clearly:

Somewhere along the way, I lost a bit of my sparkle.

I was functioning.

I was showing up.

I was smiling.

But inside, I felt dulled down. Heavy. Not quite like myself.

Looking back, I can see hints of this even after my first baby, too.

With Hughes, what I experienced felt more like waves of emotion that would hit at random times. I couldn’t always explain why I was crying or feeling overwhelmed, and looking back, I’m sure a lot of it was tied to postpartum hormones and the huge adjustment into motherhood.

I also felt isolated in a way I wasn’t prepared for. I was a new mom, trying to figure everything out, and suddenly the world felt smaller. I didn’t really know what to do with myself or how to get out of the house without feeling like it had to involve spending money. I laugh now, because poor Austin — my husband probably heard every version of “we need to go shopping” more than once.

It wasn’t that life was bad. It was that everything was new, emotional, and unfamiliar, and I was trying to find my footing in it all.

I remember when Hughes was around six weeks old, I discovered that Target had nursing stations. That tiny discovery felt life-changing at the time. It meant I could load him up, drive to Target, walk around for a bit, and still have a place to nurse him before heading back home.

And even though it may sound small, in that season it felt like everything.

It gave me somewhere to go.

Something to do.

A reason to get dressed and leave the house.

Most of all, it made my day feel a little more productive and a little less lonely.

Sometimes in early motherhood, the smallest wins can feel like the biggest lifelines.

It wasn’t until the beginning of this year that I started noticing a shift in myself.

I found myself enjoying things again.

Simple tasks around the house felt lighter. Being present with my boys felt exciting instead of draining. I wanted to be part of the moment. I wanted to engage. I wanted to be fully there.

That may sound small, but when you’ve felt disconnected from yourself, those little changes feel huge.

I remember having a conversation with Austin and trying to explain it all. How certain things came into our life — routines, responsibilities, opportunities — things that, on the outside, might not seem like they should change everything…

but for me, they did.

They gave me structure.

They gave me purpose.

They raised the standard for how I wanted to show up.

At work.

Outside the home.

Inside the home.

They held me accountable to care for myself, to be present as a wife, and to show up as the kind of mom I wanted to be.

And looking back now, I realize it was exactly what I needed.

It helped pull me out of a darkness I didn’t fully know I was in.

And I know there are so many women who probably feel something similar, yet struggle to explain it.

Because every postpartum story looks different.

Every woman carries it differently.

Every family feels it in its own way.

We are so excited for the precious gift God has blessed us with… but there is another side of the story that doesn’t get talked about enough.

The season after delivery.

The part where the visitors go home.

The hormones shift.

The exhaustion settles in.

Your identity feels unfamiliar.

And you’re expected to feel grateful while quietly trying to find yourself again.

If this is where you are — you are not failing.

You may simply be carrying more than anyone can see.

And maybe, one day, you’ll look in the mirror and recognize yourself again too.