On those gloomy days of motherhood, please spare me the “You’re not alone” mantra. Right now, it feels like I’m the only one in this chaos, with both kids sprawled on the kitchen floor, wailing about a tiny red truck, their shrieks piercing through me like a thousand tiny needles.
And please, don’t remind me that “this too shall pass.” I am right here, standing over my daughter, who’s outright refusing to do her homework despite my pleas, bribes, and desperate attempts to coax her. The frustration wells up inside me, and I find myself sounding just like the parent I never wanted to become, which is terrifying.
Don’t tell me to “enjoy every moment.” In this very instant, I can’t muster any enjoyment—my hair is an unkempt mess in a ponytail, and I’m trailing behind my toddler, who thinks it’s hilarious to eat rice straight from the take-out container, leaving a sticky trail in his wake.
And please, don’t follow up with, “A messy house is a normal house.” I’m not you, and when I see toys littering every corner, it makes me feel anxious and overwhelmed.
These dark days aren’t a daily occurrence, and for that, I am truly thankful. But when they do strike, the last thing I need is advice. What I crave is not some sugar-coated platitude to dull my pain but a moment of authenticity.
When I’m engulfed in that gloom, I want to embrace the reality of it, to sit with the discomfort of how tough things are at that moment. I often tell my kids to acknowledge their feelings, to name them and then let them go. I need to practice the same.
I’m typically not one to complain about my children or the joys of motherhood. I recognize my fortune in spending my days with them. However, during those dark moments, I need to be honest—with myself and with others. I feel there’s little space for genuine candor in parenting circles. Speaking my truth risks coming across as ungrateful or whiny.
What we really need as parents is less unsolicited advice and more open ears. We need people to genuinely listen, without judgment or the urge to tidy everything up with a bow. We need to hear, “Yes, it’s tough. Yes, you can feel completely alone sometimes.” And let’s skip the part where someone reminds us we’ll miss these days when they’re gone. Of course, we will—no need to reiterate that.
The dark days do fade away, I know this. But while I’m in the thick of it, I want the freedom to sit in the shadows without guilt or pretense. It’s therapeutic, it’s healing, and it allows me to transition from the darkness into the light.
For more insights on navigating these feelings and experiences, check out our other blog posts, including ones on home insemination and fertility supplements to support your journey. Resources like the CDC’s page on pregnancy can be helpful too.
In summary, motherhood can bring some heavy days full of chaos and emotion. We need to acknowledge these moments without feeling pressured to put on a brave face or offer up hollow reassurances. True connection and understanding can make all the difference during our most challenging times.