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Why I'm Here

Welcome, mama.

Let’s just get this out of the way…I sucked at motherhood.

At least, I told myself that over and over in the first year of my son, Teddy’s life.

My whole life I wanted to be a mom, but when the time came it was nothing like I had imagined.

It was supposed to be love and joy and falling into a natural rhythm together. It was supposed to be integrating this little person into our lives. It was supposed to be my purpose. I was going to be selfless and love giving my whole self to my son.

In reality, my world turned upside down.

I could and will go into more detail about the reality of our lives postpartum but for now just know, my sweet Beans was a tongue and lip tied baby who struggled to sleep, eat, and breathe (no big deal), I had a birth injury, and while we fell in love fast and hard, we were a goddamn mess.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. What the fuck was wrong with me?!

Even after things got better, I carried so much shame and guilt around the way I felt.

Why were those first months so hard?

What was I doing wrong? Why did I still feel so lost?

Why couldn’t I get back to who I was?

Why couldn’t I get myself to care about the things I cared about before?

There was this constant push/pull between being a mom and being the Sam I’d always known.

I felt like I couldn’t be both but was supposed to be able to.

And worst of all, I felt like I couldn’t talk about this.

The guilt I had anytime I said “I’m struggling” was unreal.

I knew my son and I were securely attached and in love, but what would other people think if they knew the way I felt?

I felt alone.

Then I came across a term that changed everything for me: Matrescence.

Matrescence is the transition into motherhood. It is the spiritual, social, physical, psychological, emotional, political, economical, cultural, relational, and career changes we experience when we go from being just us to being mother (Nikki McCahon, 2022).

So, this was it. So I wasn’t alone? There wasn’t something wrong with me?

The relief I felt in knowing I wasn’t alone was overwhelming and freeing. Yet, it made me so mad.

“Why am I just learning about this? Why do we pretend this isn’t happening? Why are we expecting women to go unseen, unheard, and uncared for during one of the most radically transformative periods of the human experience?”

I couldn't help but grieve the fact of how different things could have been if I had known about this.

And then, I wanted to make damn sure other mothers knew about it, too.

So, I am researching.

I'm actively taking a class (that I may or may not have begged my way into after it had already started), and am learning all about this transition.

Here's what I know so far, this shit is complex. This is a complete transition, a complete identity shift, and it’s one that our culture encourages us to pretend isn't happening.

We keep this veil over motherhood, that it's supposed to be nothing but bliss and selflessness and you mama, are supposed to enjoy becoming invisible.

And here's the radical thing I believe, you deserve to be seen. This experience deserves attention and ritual, and you deserve support through it.

I'm not here to be a parenting or mother expert because I am not one.

I'm here to say, I see you, I hear you.

It's okay to feel the way you're feeling.

You are not alone.

My hope is that I can help bring education, clarity, and a little levity to this experience for moms so they don't feel as alone as I and many other women do.

You deserve to enjoy this, Mama, and I want to make sure you have the chance to.

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