Motherhood Unfiltered The Joys Tears and Support That Keep Us Going
Some days, being a mum feels like your heart has learned to walk around outside your body. Other days, it feels like you're reheating the same coffee for the fourth time while someone cries because they broke their favourite toy on the floor.
Both are true.
There is the soft weight of a sleeping baby on your chest. The first gummy smile. The tiny hand that reaches for you in the dark. Then there is the exhaustion that sits in your bones, the identity wobble, the guilt over things no one else even noticed, and the strange loneliness of never being alone.
Motherhood is beautiful, stretching, funny, boring, sacred, loud, and sometimes completely overwhelming. It can crack you open in ways you did not expect. It can also reveal strength you never knew you had.
This is the unfiltered version truth....many mums live each day, often behind closed doors, messy buns, and “I’m fine” smiles.
The joy can catch you off guard
The joy of being a mum is not always grand or polished. Often, it arrives in tiny flashes.
It's the first time your baby locks eyes with you and smiles like you're the best thing they've ever seen. It is the toddler mispronouncing “spaghetti” in a way you secretly hope they never grow out of. It's watching a child discover rain, bubbles, dogs, birds, or their own shadow.
I can recall so many moments of shear exhaustion with my first child who was a challenging sleeper. I was so sleep deprived at the time and having to cope a lot on my own as my husband was working long hours at the time. One day, I was so wrecked that I fell asleep with my baby curled on my chest. Luckily that day my husband was home and took the cutest photo of us sleeping together on the couch. That photo is so special to me and always reminds me that no matter how tired I feel, being a parent to have those special bonding moments together - makes everything so.... worthwhile.
That's the strange thing about this season. The hard parts and the precious parts do not wait politely for each other to finish. They sit side by side.
There can be a screaming baby in the car seat and, five minutes later, a face so sweet in the rear-view mirror that your chest aches. There can be a child refusing dinner and then offering you their last soggy chip because they love you.
These small moments matter. They're not small when you're living them. They become the beads on the string, the memories that hold you when the day has been too much.
The hard parts are real, even when you love your child deeply
There is a kind of guilt that seems to arrive with the baby bag.
Guilt for wanting a break. Guilt for missing your old life. Guilt for not enjoying every minute. Guilt for feeling bored. Guilt for going back to work, or not going back to work. Guilt for using screens, for losing patience, for crying in the shower, for counting down to bedtime.
Loving your child does not cancel out how hard parenting can be.
Many new mums meet versions of themselves they do not recognise. The patient person snaps over spilled milk. The organised person forgets appointments. The social person ignores messages because replying feels like one more job. The confident person worries about every rash, feed, nap, and milestone.
Sleep deprivation alone can make everything feel sharper. A comment from a relative can sting more. A partner’s innocent question can feel like criticism. A baby’s cry can go straight through your nervous system.
Then there is the invisible load.
You may be the one who knows when the nappies are running low, which size clothes are packed away, whether the blue cup is acceptable today, when the next immunisation is due, and why the baby will only settle if rocked upright after the second burp.
That mental list is heavy.
Australian parenting resources such as the Raising Children Network often describe early parenting as a major adjustment, not just a set of practical tasks. It affects sleep, relationships, emotions, routines, and your sense of self. That framing matters because it gives mums permission to stop treating the struggle as a personal failure.
You are not weak because you feel stretched. You are carrying a lot.
The emotional rollercoaster can feel confusing
One minute you're staring at your baby in awe. The next, you are furious that no one replaced the wipes.
One minute you feel grateful. The next, trapped.
One minute you laugh because your child has covered themselves in yoghurt. The next, you cry because there is yoghurt on the floor, the chair, the wall, and somehow inside your shoe.
This emotional swing can be unsettling, especially if you imagined being a mum would feel more natural or calm. Plenty of women find that early parenting brings up old wounds, family patterns, body image struggles, relationship stress, anxiety, or grief for the life they had before.
None of that means you are doing it wrong.
The “baby blues” are common in the first days after birth, as hormones shift and sleep disappears. Ongoing distress, anxiety, panic, numbness, rage, or hopelessness deserves support. PANDA, the Perinatal Anxiety and Depression Australia organisation, is a well-known Australian service for expecting and new parents who need mental health support. Their guidance makes it clear that perinatal anxiety and depression can affect many families, and help is available.
This article is general and informational only. If feelings become frightening, persistent, or hard to manage, reaching out to a GP, maternal and child health nurse, psychologist, midwife, or PANDA can be a vital step.
There is no prize for suffering quietly.
Community support changes everything
Many mums were never meant to do this in isolation, yet modern life often makes parenting feel like a solo act.
Families may live far apart. Partners may return to work quickly. Friends may be in different seasons. The village people talk about can feel more like a myth than a real thing.
Still, support does not have to look perfect to count.
It can be:
A neighbour who drops off soup and does not ask to hold the baby unless invited
A friend who sends a voice note saying, “No need to reply”
A parents’ group where everyone looks tired and nobody pretends otherwise
A sister who folds washing without asking where anything goes
A partner who takes the baby after work so you can shower alone
A maternal health nurse who says, “That sounds really hard,” and means it
Some of the best support is practical and unglamorous. Groceries. Laundry. School pick-up. A cooked meal. Holding the baby while you nap. Sitting beside you while you cry.
Emotional support matters too. There is deep relief in hearing another mum say, “Same here.” It lowers the shame. It reminds you that the chaos in your home is not evidence that everyone else has mastered something you have missed.
That moment was community. Not polished. Not impressive. Just honest.
Self-care is not another thing to feel guilty about
Self-care can sound laughable when you have not slept properly and someone is always touching you.
A bubble bath is lovely, but it does not solve the deeper need for rest, food, breathing room, and help. For new mums, self-care often needs to become smaller, more honest, and more realistic.
Think less “spa day” and more basic human maintenance.
That might mean eating toast while it is still warm. Drinking water before another coffee. Going outside for five minutes of sun. Letting the washing wait. Saying no to visitors. Asking someone else to handle dinner. Putting the baby somewhere safe and taking a few slow breaths in the next room.
Self-care can also mean protecting your mind.
Unfollow accounts that make you feel like a failure. Step away from advice that leaves you tense. Stop measuring your day against someone else’s edited moment. If a feeding method, sleep approach, or routine is filling you with dread, talk it through with a trusted health professional rather than carrying the pressure alone.
The Raising Children Network often encourages parents to care for themselves as part of caring for their children. That advice can sound simple, but it is powerful. A calmer, fed, supported parent has more capacity. Not perfect capacity. Just more.
Self-care is not selfish. It is part of keeping the whole family steady.
The identity shift deserves more honesty
Becoming a mum can feel like gaining a child and misplacing yourself at the same time.
Before the baby, you may have known how to measure a good day. You finished work. You met a friend. You cleaned the house. You exercised. You made plans and mostly kept them.
With a baby, the day can disappear into feeding, settling, wiping, rocking, and wondering where the hours went. You may do a hundred things and have nothing obvious to show for it.
That can be hard for women who are used to feeling capable.
There is also the body shift. The body that grew or birthed a child may feel unfamiliar. Clothes sit differently. Scars ache. Hair sheds. Breasts leak. Pelvic floors need care. Desire may change. Confidence may come and go.
Then there is the relationship shift. Couples can love each other and still argue over sleep, chores, feeding, money, intimacy, and whose turn it is. Resentment can grow in the gap between what each person thought the other person noticed.
Honest conversations help, especially when they happen before everyone is at breaking point.
Try simple, direct language:
“I need one hour where nobody touches me.”
“Can you take over bath time each night?”
“I am feeling invisible today.”
“I need you to organise the nappies, not ask me which ones to buy.”
“I love our baby, and I am struggling.”
These are not dramatic statements. They are clear ones.
Good enough mothering is a gift
The phrase “good enough mother” comes from British paediatrician and psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott, who wrote about the idea that children do not need perfect parenting. They need a caregiver who is loving, responsive, and human.
That idea has comforted generations of parents for a reason.
Good enough means you repair after you snap. You cuddle after the hard moment. You say sorry when you need to. You keep showing up, even if the day had too much toast, too many tears, and not enough patience.
Children do not need a mum who never struggles. They need one who returns.
This can be especially soothing in the age of endless parenting advice. There is always someone telling mums how to feed, sleep, hold, teach, soothe, discipline, decorate, and schedule. Some advice is useful. Some is noise. Too much can make even simple choices feel loaded.
Good enough parenting gives you room to breathe.
The baby can have a supermarket pouch. The toddler can wear gumboots with shorts. The dishes can wait. The bedtime book can be short. The lunchbox can be plain. The day can be ordinary and still be full of love.
When to ask for more help
Support is not only for crisis points. It is for the slow build-up too.
Ask for more help if you feel constantly overwhelmed, frightened by your thoughts, disconnected from your baby, unable to sleep even when you have the chance, or like you are disappearing inside the role. Ask if you are angry more than you want to be. Ask if you are crying often. Ask if you feel numb.
In Australia, a GP can be a good starting point. Maternal and child health nurses, midwives, child and family health services, and perinatal mental health services can also guide you. PANDA offers support for expecting and new parents, and organisations such as Beyond Blue provide mental health information and pathways to care.
If there is immediate danger to you, your baby, or someone else, call emergency services on 000.
Needing help does not make you less of a mum. It means you are taking the load seriously.
The love is still there on the hard days
Some nights, after a day that has taken everything, you might stand in the doorway and watch your child sleep. The same child who refused shoes, screamed in the car, tipped cereal on the floor, and wanted to be carried while you cooked.
And there they are. Soft cheeks. Heavy lashes. One arm flung above their head. Peaceful, as if they have not spent the day testing every edge of you.
The love rises again.
Not always like fireworks. Sometimes like a small lamp turning on in a dark room.
That is the thread that keeps many mums going. Love, yes, but also humour, support, snacks, coffee, fresh air, honest friends, and the knowledge that no stage lasts forever.
The newborn stage shifts. The toddler stage shifts. The clingy stage, the biting stage, the “why” stage, the night-waking stage, they all move. Some are replaced by new hard things, but also new joys.
One day, the child who needed you every second will run ahead. One day, the mispronounced words will become clear. One day, the little hand will not always reach for yours. That thought can hurt and comfort at the same time.
So take the photo, even if the room is a mess. Accept the meal. Text the friend. Book the appointment. Sit in the sun. Let yourself cry. Let yourself laugh at how absurd it all is.
Being a mum does not require constant gratitude or endless patience. It asks for presence, repair, tenderness, and support. It asks you to keep coming back, to your child and to yourself.
And on the days when everything feels too much, may there be someone nearby who says, “I’ve got you,” then proves it by making toast, holding the baby, or sitting beside you in the beautiful chaos.
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