If you have been reading any of my blog posts in the last few months, you may or may not realize I have been struggling. I have written about a few topics that are sensitive, such as postpartum loneliness, having a clingy baby, and I’ve touched on the experience of becoming a mom during COVID, but most of my other posts seem like everything is just peachy. I don’t think it is fair to put out an image that everything is great all the time. This has actually been the hardest time in my life to date, which almost nobody until now was aware of.

I don’t want to come across as throwing a pity party or being negative. But, motherhood is HARD. Life changes are HARD. Growing out of friendships is HARD. Career change is HARD. Being a SAHM is HARD, you guys! And the crazy thing is, you don’t know until you are in it. I never worried about what would happen when Baylor got here. I always thought I would have that part in the bag, having 6 siblings and all. But I couldn’t be further from the truth.

I recently started seeing a therapist for the first time in my life which I vaguely mentioned in another post, but never thought I would share about in a post like this. The stigma surrounding mental health is still ever present, but is also slowly dwindling as people share their stories. I hope to be one of those to help normalize getting help.

I was recently diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder (which I have had since childhood, but it has taken this long to get diagnosed) and PTSD due to some experiences with my family situation that I won’t elaborate on here.

I have been struggling with all of these things all while trying to be the best mom and wife for my family. I have finally realized I am at the point where I need to grab my oxygen mask first. I need to be healthy in order to take care of my family. Reaching out for help has been the most difficult thing I have ever had to come to terms with. Staying at home has forced me to face my demons head on - so I am grateful for this time without work, but all the while, I am battling a raging storm of guilt.

Who am I now that I am not working? Now, I have yet another label, another job added to the never ending list a woman is expected to become. I am overwhelmed. I am full of guilt. I am also full of outpouring love and connection with my son. There will never be a perfect balance, I am aware of that now. But I am trying to get to a place where I can feel regulated.

One thing I have really been struggling with is the fact that I am not “contributing” to my family anymore - in my mind, I am costing my family more and more by not working, going to doctors appointments, needing medications, and therapy sessions. I sometimes feel like a burden. I know that I am not, but your mind has a clever way of tricking you into believing a lot of things about yourself that you are not.

I was voicing these concerns to my angel of a husband the other night. I said things like “I am costing us so much”, or “maybe I shouldn’t go to the doctor”, or “I feel worthless and like I contribute nothing.” He responds to me by saying, “what would you pay yourself for every single task you do for our family? If you were on a salary, what would it be?” I started to thinking about every meal I have cooked, every bottle made, diaper changed, tear wiped, every hug and every kiss. Every ounce of breastmilk my body produced from scratch, every load of laundry, grocery trip with a crying baby on my now-much-wider-hip, all the sacrifices I have made…

He answered before I could even bare to put a number on the role of a mother. While looking at him through blurred eyes, I heard him say, “It’s priceless. What you do every day is priceless. You cannot put a price on the love and efforts that go into making our household and family what it is.”

I guess I had never seen it that way. Even if I were to be “paid” for this job, it wouldn’t matter. There is no price that would capture such a special calling.

I then, of course start to think about all the women in the world who long to be a mom and never are able to be, all the moms who foster and moms who adopt. All of the motherly figures in my life who have taken on that role for me, who have made me an “adopted” daughter to their family and supported me through everything.

To anyone who has reached out, thank you. To anyone who had no idea, its okay, I didn’t either. To anyone else struggling, I am always here. I am in early stages of treatment but am happy to be someone you can vent to.

You never know what someone is going through behind their glossy instagram feed or in this case, cutesy, curated blog posts. Remind a mom in your life that they are precious to you and that their work and love will forever be priceless in your book. 💜

Love you all. Thanks for reading this frazzled, somewhat unclear stream of consciousness I just needed to get out on paper.