Her Honest Space

The newborn days are raw, exhausting, and beautiful. This post explores the emotional depth of that season — and what I wish I’d known.

Becoming a mum is beautiful — but it’s also brutal.

No book or podcast can prepare you for the emotional shift that happens the moment your baby is placed in your arms. One second you’re you, and the next, you’re in full-blown mum mode — without a manual, without a map.

You run on adrenaline, instinct, and love. For a while, it works. But here’s the truth: as much as you gain in that moment, you also start to lose sight of yourself.

🤰🏻Survival Mode Is Real

Those first weeks are a blur of feeding, changing, settling, and second-guessing yourself. You learn your baby’s cries, stumble through sleep cues, and wonder daily if you’re getting any of it “right.”

I’ll be honest — I often felt like a fraud. Like I was just pretending to know what I was doing, hoping no one noticed how unsure I was inside.

And in the middle of it all? Your own recovery, your needs, your body — they fall to the bottom of the list. Pelvic floor exercises? Forget it. Showers? Rare. Clean clothes? Only if you count nursing bras and pajama shorts as an outfit. That was my reality.

😩You’re Not Meant to Do This Alone

Though I was fortunate to have support, I still struggled with asking for help. The trenches can make you feel like a failure — putting on a front, trying to act like the “ideal mum,” when deep down you’re scrambling.

Everything feels like it’s constantly falling apart. Your body and mind feel like a constant battle. For me, breastfeeding amplified that. I felt disconnected from my body, like I was just a robotic cow existing only to keep my baby alive and healthy.

It also took me four months to leave the house solo with my baby. Before motherhood, I was fiercely independent. Suddenly, I felt completely dependent on my partner — almost like I was a child again, too afraid to step into the big world on my own.

My inner critic told me:

• What if he cries and I can’t soothe him?
• Everyone will see I’m a fraud of a mum.
• I’ll look like I can’t cope.

That voice belittled me to the point that doing anything alone felt impossible.

Eventually, I bit the bullet and signed up for a term of sensory classes — I knew once I paid, I’d be forced to go. But it wasn’t easy. I’ve never loved small talk, and meeting new mums felt like an audition. I’d look around and see women who seemed so happy, so “ideal,” and I’d think: Why am I not like that? Why do I feel like I’m failing?

Some mums didn’t want to chat, others I simply couldn’t connect with. But then I met one mum with a little boy four months younger than mine. In her, I saw my own struggles reflected. She got it. She saw me. And when she invited me into her mother’s group, I almost cancelled a dozen times. But I pushed myself to go.

I’ll never forget that first cafe meet-up. The women were warm, welcoming, and honest. They spoke about their struggles, their healing, their exhaustion. And for the first time, I felt at ease. I wasn’t broken. I wasn’t alone.

What I’m saying is this: in the early days, it’s easy to stay home. It feels safer. But when you can, push yourself to step out. Yes, it’s good for your baby — but it’s mainly for you. For your sanity, your identity, and your reminder that you matter, too. Taking care of yourself is part of taking care of them.

😐 If I Could Tell Myself One Thing…

The way I was feeling, I couldn’t understand this new person I had become. It was like I was back in high school — questioning everything I did, letting insecurities dictate how I lived, and trying to measure up to an image of motherhood I thought everyone expected.

My confidence was shattered. I hated the reflection in the mirror.

Before motherhood, people told me: “This will be the greatest love you’ll ever feel.” And they were right. But what no one told me was how that love could be tangled up with doubt, fear, and self-criticism.

I had spent years learning to quiet my insecurities, to accept myself, to finally feel in control of who I was. And then motherhood hit — and suddenly, it felt like I was right back at the start, raw and lost all over again. I didn’t know how to climb out, or how to explain what I was feeling to my partner. I wanted him to have the answers, but how could he when I didn’t even understand myself?

Taking care of your mental health in the newborn trenches is crucial — but it’s so easy to ignore. I wanted to be the ideal mum I had pictured for my son, and when I fell short of that image, I felt like a disappointment. Asking for help felt impossible. I didn’t want to burden anyone.

Here’s what I wish I could have whispered to myself in those moments…

• You are stronger and more resilient than you realise — every night feed, every early morning proves that.
• You are more than “just a mum.” Running on an empty tank, you keep rising again and again.
• Even when you feel out of control in the chaos, you are still learning, discovering, and growing — shown in your patience when you’re exhausted.
• Your new body is not broken; it’s a shell of strength. Every stretch mark and every soft roll tells the story of how you grew your baby.
• You may question your decisions, but they’ve kept your baby healthy, safe, and loved. Every milestone, every glimpse of their growing personality is proof you’re doing enough.
• And remember: it’s not just your baby who’s growing. You are, too. It may feel like you’ve gone back to the start, but these challenges are shaping you into a new version of yourself. Just like a caterpillar breaking free, the struggle is part of becoming — and your wings will come.

Because that’s the truth. In the newborn trenches, love is enough. Showing up — even when you’re exhausted and unsure — is enough.

🧑‍🧑‍🧒You’re Not Alone in This

If you’re in the trenches right now — messy hair, sore body, tears that come out of nowhere — please know this: you are not broken, and you are not alone.

Motherhood can feel isolating. It can make you question everything you thought you knew about yourself. But every feed, every sleepless night, every time you pick yourself up again is proof of your strength, even if you don’t feel it.

And if you’re sitting there, baby in your arms, feeling like the world is spinning too fast and you’re falling behind — I see you. Motherhood is messy, unfiltered, and brutally hard at times. But none of that makes you less of a mum. It makes you human. And you don’t have to carry it all alone.

💬 Let’s Talk

What was the newborn phase really like for you? And if you’re expecting, what’s one thing you’ll take with you as you prepare to enter those early trenches?

✨I’d love to keep this conversation going — whether in the comments, on my blog, or over on Instagram where I share more of the everyday, messy moments of mum life.