You love your baby. You also really miss yourself.

A woman holding a sleeping baby against her shoulder inside a home. The woman is wearing a navy tank top, and the baby is wrapped in a beige blanket, resting peacefully. A hospital wristband is on the woman's wrist. Near the window, there is a stack of newspapers and various objects on a table.

You wanted this. You love this tiny human more than you knew was possible. And also... holy shit, this is hard.

Your brain is running through feeding, weight, wake windows, and whether the extra fussiness is finally that first tooth coming in. It’s 2 a.m. and you’re ordering another swaddle on Amazon because maybe this is the one that gets you an extra hour of sleep. Meanwhile, you can’t remember the last time you washed your hair.

Somewhere between keeping this little person alive and trying to figure out what the hell you’re doing, you start wondering: Am I ever going to feel like myself again?

And then there’s the rage.

Maybe you’re trying to get everyone out the door, mentally running through everything the baby could possibly need while your partner is ready to go and laughing at something on his phone. He has no idea why you’re suddenly so pissed—and honestly, part of you doesn’t either.

You’re doing A LOT, and sometimes anger is the part of you willing to say: Hey. This isn’t working for me.

This kind of rage might be a whole new experience, and it can feel a little scary. I get that—and I also think it’s important to get to know it. Your anger might have something really important to say about what you need right now as this new version of you is emerging.

You can be both grateful and mad. Let’s learn something from it.

A woman kneeling on sandy beach, hugging a young boy, both smiling, with clear sky and beach in background.

Getting to know the new you.

There are going to be moments when you feel really far from who you were before becoming a mom. I see you there. Missing your freedom. Missing the ease of your old life. Maybe just missing the version of you who could leave the house with out packing for it like a three-day trip.

There’s room to grieve what’s changed. And there’s also room to get to know who you’re becoming—someone who might be stronger than she even realizes yet. Motherhood has changed you, but it hasn’t erased you.

You can pour so much love into your baby and still have room for you.

You deserve support, too.

I offer postpartum therapy in person in San Diego and virtually throughout California. If motherhood isn’t feeling quite like you expected it to, fill out the contact form and tell me a little about what’s going on. I’ll reach out from there and we can chat.