I carry a grief that is not mine. I’ve carried it my whole life. And it got stronger after I became a mom.

My grandmother had 4 kids. When her youngest was 16, he was attacked by a gang. I am not going to detail it here, but it was a very violent crime and he didn’t survive his injuries.

I was 6 months old. Which means I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember him, I don’t remember what happened and I don’t remember the days that followed. But I grew up with it. My grandmother fought violence her whole life, even before this tragedy happened. My family talked about it. I knew what had happened and how it happened. There were pictures of him as well as other victims as part of a campaign against violence - in my school, on the streets. It was there. It wasn’t hidden but also wasn’t exacerbated.

This was the family I knew: there was my great grandmother, my grandmother, my mom, my sister, my aunts and cousins - and the memory of my uncle. I knew they had suffered a lot, there were still traces of their suffering. But that was the life I knew. It was “normal” for me. At that point in my life, I didn’t know grief or how it worked. I didn’t know we carried that weight our whole lives.

Then I became a mother. A mother. I had heard people saying mothers would give their lives for their children but I only comprehended the feeling after I had my own children. Now I know the feeling, it lives inside of me all the time. I would give my life for them without even thinking about it. After my first child was born I knew for sure that if something happened to her, my life would end. I wouldn’t survive. But after my son was born I realized that was not an option. If something happens to one of my children, I still have to keep living my life because I still have another person that needs me. That made me even more scared. And every time I felt like that I remembered my grandmother.

How did she do it? How did she survive? Did she change? Who was she before a group of horrible men decided to take her son’s life? How did she wake up every morning and got out of bed? How did she get to work? How did she walk on the streets, drove her car, went to the bakery, celebrated birthdays, made dinner? How did she live her life after such a horrible thing had happened to her? How did she keep fighting? How did she keep smiling and finding joy in life?

My heart goes out to any mother who has suffered a loss. If there were anything I could do to relieve your pain, I would.

It hurts me that I didn’t know this feeling before. That I couldn’t be more empathetic towards her. That I didn’t hug her more. That I didn’t help her more. That I didn’t hold her hand. That I didn’t tell her how much I admire her. It hurts that I never told her I’m sorry about what happened.

This grief is not mine, but I have carried it my whole life. I don’t know what to do with this. At 6 months old I was barely there. I grew up with it. But I never really processed it. What do I do with this feeling? Is it fear of losing my kids? Is it guilt? Is it grief? Or all those things together?

Thank you for reading.

Bruna

On Saturday everyone overslept (thank goodness) and we left the house later than planned. I’m usually very uptight with this kind of stuff, but I was able to manage my anxiety and go with the flow. We took the train, changed for the metro, realized we were on the wrong path, went back to the train station and finally got to the hotel. All week the weather app showed a nice hot sunny day on Saturday but in reality it was overcast with a little drizzle.

At that point I was so frustrated that I told my husband “this was a massive mistake” a few times. Then we got to the hotel room: a very simple room, only our beds and a table. Nothing much, nothing special. And… my daughter was completely delighted. She was running through the room, giggling so much. Our son woke up from his nap and joined her. Then my whole body and mind relaxed and I thought to myself “it was totally worth it”.

Subscribe now

On our way to the lake, they were impressed with everything they saw. My son, who is usually very agitated, was silently observing everything. And my daughter was asking questions for both of them. She was interested in the moss on the trees, the snails on the ground, the giant trees and mushrooms growing on the ground. They both enjoyed the lake, the water, the sand, the playground, every tiny rock they found on their way.

On our way back to the hotel, we saw three deer running around and it was magical! After the kids were asleep, we left them in the room and went to the hotel restaurant to have a beer and talk. And it was such a good moment for us. We were able to talk and connect in a way we hadn’t in months. Just because we left the house. Yes, we were checking the baby monitor every 2 minutes, but it was still worth it.

The next morning we had the same stressful situations we have at home: kids fiddling with stuff they shouldn’t, yelling at each other because someone took someone else’s toy, etc. We all got stressed. But then I realized we weren’t stressed because we were away. We would have been dealing with the same situation if we were at home.

I see a lot of people saying that traveling with kids is just struggling at different address but I can’t completely agree with that. Were we completely tired? Yes. Were we stressed? Also yes. Were we enjoying that experience? Hell yes! After coming home, my daughter asked so many questions about the trip. She mentioned the train, the hotel, the lake, the temperature of the water, the hotel breakfast. She talked about the mushrooms, the deer, the moss and the snails. I am so sure those things are engraved in her memory. And that makes it all worth it.

I don’t want to go back to normal.

To my old self. To the person I used to be. I am doing the most amazing thing, raising tiny little humans that are growing up and becoming someone. I changed and I am okay with that. I love my new self. This new me is way more interesting than the old one.

I don’t want to go back to normal.

I don’t want to fit into my old clothes. That wardrobe doesn’t belong to me anymore. I don’t need the pressure to bounce back. This body is perfect as it is: it created life, it nourished my children. Although I still carry a little pooch, this body is way healthier than my pre-pregnancy one.

I don’t want to go back to normal.

I don’t want to go back to my old, boring job. The moodboards and spreadsheets don’t make sense anymore. I don’t need endless meetings leading nowhere. The corporate world broke my soul. My kids healed me. To honor that, I want to create something new, something exciting, something I will feel proud of!

I don’t want to go back to normal.

Getting wasted and being hungover the next day doesn’t fit my schedule anymore. I want to take my kids to see the world, I want to enjoy daylight, I want to explore nature with them. I want to get excited about sand and water like they do.

I don’t want to go back to normal.

I don’t even know what is normal anymore. I talk about my kids’ poop in casual conversation. I feel like a Disney princess because I spend my days singing - but my songs are about eating, having a shower, pooping and cleaning.

So… f*ck the pressure of going back to normal!

This is a new season, a new Era. I welcome it with an open heart.

Subscribe now

I remember holding my daughter in my arms for the first time. As soon as she came out of my body, my partner held her and handed her over to me. I held that baby, my heart almost exploding. We had a beautiful and peaceful delivery. I spent the whole day laboring, breathing, feeling every contraction, telling myself I was strong and I could do it. And then… I had this precious baby in my arms. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was.

Every day I looked at her and I was in awe of how perfect she was. Our love grew a little bit every day - and I’ve come to understand that this is imperceptible. I didn’t realize I loved her more than the day before. And I never thought about it…

…until my son was born. Everything was different with him. I was so excited about the pregnancy but I couldn’t feel every second of it because I already had a daughter to take care of. His birth was different, very quick and intense. Feeling all the contractions, my hips expanding, dilating 10cm, all in 1.5 hours was very intense. I didn’t feel strong, I felt I couldn’t do it. Then, after that intense hour, I had my second baby in my arms. “It’s a boy!” I thought to myself - it was a big surprise!

I remember looking at him and not feeling instantly all the love I felt for my daughter. That threw me into a spiral of guilt and shame. I felt like such a bad mother. What kind of mother doesn’t love their children equally? I couldn’t speak about it at that time and honestly, it is still really hard to write about it. Or even to think about it.

I realized that when I looked at my son, I felt the need to protect him. To feed him. To help him sleep. He was so tiny… he couldn’t do anything. And all I wanted to do was to help him and protect him. Then I realized that was caring for him. That was love. Then I remembered I had 17 months to build a relationship with my daughter, to love her a little bit more every day. Meanwhile, I had just met my son. I was putting too much pressure on myself to love them the same way when all I needed was more time.

When I look at pictures of his first few months, I still feel guilty. And I know that it is something I have to work on to forgive myself. But when I look at him now… oh, my heart explodes! He is the sweetest kid. He has the most wonderful smile. He is charming. He is so funny! He lights up the room. Such a precious baby! My baby boy!

I’ve learned we don’t measure love. We don’t pressure love. We don’t rush love. We just live our lives, one day at a time and we feel love.

Subscribe now

Am I enough for my children? Am I doing enough for them? Do they know they are deeply loved? Can they feel it? Do I say it enough times?

Is it okay to send them to day care? Or am I being selfish? I feel guilty… maybe I should bring them home. I definitely stay with them. But then I get tired… too tired. And stressed. And I yell.

Oh God, I yelled. Are they going to remember this forever? Do they think I am a bad mother? Or do they know I’m doing my best? But then again… is my best enough?

Am I present enough during our time together? Do they like the way I play?

How are they going to remember their childhood? Full of laughter and joy? Or are they going to say “she meant well, but…” while complaining about their traumas in therapy… just like I do?

Are they eating well enough? It’s not always organic, but we try to cook mostly from scratch. Their dad cooks better than I do… Do they like my food? Today dinner is rice and chicken. What kind of mother forgets the veggies?

Am I paying attention enough? When did this rash appear? Did they poop today?

Am I really doing my best? Is my best really enough? They should be using more sunscreen, I know that for sure.

Subscribe now

My parents split up when I was 1 year old. Then, when I was 3, my father met my stepmother. As soon as we met, we became friends. And for the most part of my childhood, that’s what she was: my stepmother - a person who liked me a lot, who treated me really well, who made nice plans for us on the weekends and who took care of me.

As I grew up, our relationship also grew. We became really close. It was really good to have that extra person to help me understand things. If I instantly rejected something my parents said - because that’s what kids do sometimes - I had her there to explain the same thing to me in a different way. And, somehow, it was easier to accept. When I look back to my childhood, when I look at my stepmother, all I saw was someone who took care of me and who helped me.

At some point during my life, we realized we had a mother-daughter relationship. There wasn’t a single defining moment. It was natural. I know that wasn’t expected of us. It wasn’t planned. It just happened. Then, when I was 14 years old, my little sister was born. And I was afraid that my stepmother would realize that that was real maternal love. That she would think “I like Bruna, but now that I have a daughter of my own I know what real love is”. I felt so much shame feeling that way that I didn’t tell her. The funny thing is: our relationship didn’t change. If anything, there was even more love. Six years later, when my brother was born - I was 20, older and a little more mature, I finally told her about the fear I had all those years ago and she shared that she actually had the same fear. Silly us. Little did we know that our love would only grow stronger.

I was raised by two amazing mothers and each loved me, helped me, supported me and taught me in a unique way. One doesn’t erase or diminish the other.

My mother is a wonderful person and an amazing mother. She always showed me love. I never had to do a single thing to feel loved by her. She chose to carry me in her womb. She always wanted me, she always loved me, she always accepted me, she always cherished me.

My stepmother is also a wonderful person. She never saw me as an obstacle or an inconvenience. She chose to live her life with a man that already had a child. She accepted and welcomed me in her life. She chose to be my friend. She chose to work on our relationship. Maybe without even realizing what she was doing, she also chose to be my mother.

After becoming a mother myself, I feel incredibly lucky and blessed to have two beautiful examples of mothers in my life. Two different ways of showing love. Two different ways of experiencing life. Two homes to come back to. Two warm hugs when I need them. Two different types of advice. Two different ways of handling the challenges life throws our way. Two unique ways of being a person in this world. Two wonderful examples of being a mother.

And the cherry on top? My kids are incredibly lucky to have 2 grandmothers.

Subscribe now

Plus this is a critique against the system, I’m not judging anyone who chose a C-section or had to go through one.

I wish this was an article filled with information about birth and with strategies to fight the system. It’s not. This is just me venting.

It’s not just about how the baby will come into the world. It’s not vaginal birth vs C-section. It’s about how the mother is going to be treated during such a delicate moment - a moment she will remember for the rest of her life, whether it was lovely and respectful or traumatizing.

First of all: I come from Brazil, a country with one of the highest C-section rates in the world. But it’s not about the C-section itself; it’s about the whole mafia behind it. Doctors lie and scare families, telling them their baby is in danger just to push an unnecessary C-section, as if it were not a major surgery. I saw that happening to people in my own family. They also found a way to make women so scared of birth by focusing only on the pain, which leads to romanticization of the C-section, to make it look like it’s a pain-free way to bring your child into the world. Because when the surgery is over, the doctor goes back to their life and the woman is left to heal from a very painful surgery alone. (And by alone, I mean the doctor isn’t there to witness. It’s not their problem anymore.) So we got to a point where families are scheduling C-sections before the baby is even ready to be born, with the promise of a pain-free recovery.

I was very privileged to be able to hire the doctor and nurse I believed in, and I was incredibly lucky that they were even more amazing than I could ever have imagined. But while pregnant, I studied a lot about giving birth. And when I say a lot, I mean an absurd amount of time spent reading, researching, and watching documentaries. There is one Brazilian documentary series called O Renascimento do Parto (The Renaissance of Birth) that I actually couldn’t finish watching because of the sheer amount of obstetric violence displayed in it.

Not everyone is privileged enough to be able to hire their first choice of doctors and nurses. Some people must rely on the on-call team. Some rely on public hospitals. Some people can actually afford to hire the best doctors in town, but don’t because they trust the system. The thing is, the medical system is embedded in a capitalist and patriarchal world, and if there is one thing society allows to be mistreated, it is the female body. The system treats birth like a factory assembly line, forcing women to conform to a hospital’s schedule rather than the natural rhythm of labor. It hurts to write this, but it was only after becoming pregnant that I truly understood how normalized violence against the our bodies really is.

So let’s go back to giving birth naturally. When giving birth, a woman should be able to move freely. She should be allowed to have a person with her at all times - her partner, her mother, her doula, her friend - if that is the person she chose to be with her. She should be able to eat and drink whenever she wants. She should be allowed to scream if she needs to.

No birth should be rushed. “The birth isn’t progressing” is a very sensitive, often weaponized phrase. Is it really not progressing, or is it just not progressing according to your schedule, my dear doctor? We need to give women the time and space to birth in peace.

A laboring woman needs to be respected like any other human being on the planet. No one should laugh at her or dismiss her pain. No one should yell at her. No one should tell her, “Well, you chose natural birth, now you have to take it.” - as if the pain were the punishment she deserves for wanting to birth her child. No one should tell her to stop screaming. And when I say no one, I mean not a single person. No doctor, no nurse, no one. No one should tell her to push if she doesn’t feel like pushing. No one should tell her to push if it’s not the right time to push. Furthermore, the Kristeller maneuver (where staff apply pressure to the mother’s belly) or episiotomies are extremely violent acts, no matter how well they are packaged, and no matter how sweet and delicate the doctor is. They are decades out of date and should not be done. Plus, during a C-section, no mother should be listening to the staff making small talk. Play a nice playlist, for God’s sake. Be gentle. Be respectful.

I am tired of listening to people criticize natural birth simply because it is inconvenient for the hospital staff. I am tired of how movies portray birth as something tied to suffering, telling women that it is too hard and that we can’t do it. I am really tired of the myth that a C-section is just an easy, pain-free “way out” to bring a child into the world, completely ignoring the major surgery and intense recovery it actually involves. I am exhausted by listening to birth stories that are full of hidden obstetric violence. I am exhausted by seeing just how normalized violence against our bodies truly is.

Let’s try to change it for the next generation of girls.

Subscribe now

In my group of friends, no one wants to have kids. Although I could share my everything with them when I got pregnant, I didn’t really have anyone to ask about their experience or even to lean on. When I was 30-something weeks pregnant, I went to a birth class at my clinic and I met a lot of moms. One of them was also 30-something weeks pregnant and we connected instantly. We found each other on Instagram but didn’t really talk until our kids were born. I texted her when my daughter was born, and she texted me two days later to tell me her daughter was born as well. After that, we texted almost every day.

It was so refreshing to share that experience with someone. We were living exactly the same phase in our lives: becoming a mother, getting to know our children, saying goodbye to the woman we once were, learning how to survive waking up so many times in the middle of the night, learning how to change a diaper with almost no light, and understanding what each cry meant. We shared both our joys and our fears, our dreams and our frustrations. When the kids were around 3 months old, we met for coffee, and that became our (almost) weekly ritual. I felt way less alone.

Our daughters were born only 3 days apart. Our sons were born 3 months apart. And the funny thing is, with our second children, our ritual of sharing experiences was really different. Of course we still talk a lot, but suddenly we were not living the exact same phase anymore, and this changed the dynamic a little.

I remember when my son was born and he woke up hourly. I was a wreck. I had an 17-month-old toddler who I still breastfed, and I was still trying to process all the health stuff we went through in the previous months. The person who offered to help the most? This friend. She also had an 17-month-old and was heavily pregnant, while also running her own company. She still showed up. And I’ll be forever grateful. Then, when her son was born and I had a 20-month-old, a 3-month-old, and no sleep, I still offered to help. We laughed. No matter how broken we are, we still show up for other moms.

After becoming a mom, it was inevitable that I would meet other moms. I connected instantly with some of them, and we have become very good friends. Especially the ones whose values align with mine, who raise their kids in a similar way. We used to meet for coffee, went on playdates. I miss them a lot since moving countries. But I’ve noticed there is still a connection even with the moms who didn’t become close friends. Because mothers help each other. When we see a child getting hurt, we also hurt. Even when it’s not our kid. Because mothers feel the world in an intense and unique way.

After moving to Germany, I realized the moment I feel more alone is when I take my kids to the playground and I am surrounded by parents. Which is really funny, because I don’t feel alone at all when I’m by myself with them in the house. I don’t feel alone even when my husband is working at night. But I do feel alone at the playground because there are plenty of families sharing that moment together. They are talking, sharing snacks, laughing, and watching each other’s children. The other day, my son took his first 3 little steps, I looked around and I had no one to celebrate with me. It may sound silly, but it hurts a little bit.

We need other moms to remind us we are not alone in the world. We need other moms to remind us we are not doing anything wrong, no matter what the internet or your neighbor’s father-in-law says. We need other moms to relight the fire when we feel we have nothing left to give. We need other moms to remind us we are on the right path. To remind us we are good mothers. We need other moms to cheer each other up and support each other.

Subscribe now

We have all been there: right after announcing the pregnancy, the unsolicited advice comes pouring. Thank you, well intentioned people, but… no. They come from everywhere and cover all topics. What you should do with your own body while pregnant, what type of birth you should have, how you should feed your baby (breast, bottle, or formula), where everyone should sleep, and how to raise your own kids.

The unsolicited advice bothered me so much. However, I realized that when I’m talking to a friend who is pregnant or has a baby younger than mine, I also wanted to give some advice. (Well, what can I do? I’m just a flawed person…) I do my best to be sensitive when speaking, especially to avoid stepping on any toes. But yeah, sometimes I do give my own unsolicited advice.

So… let’s check some of the suggestions you might hear from me even though you didn’t ask for it.

Write letters to your baby

Yes, write letters to your baby. As time goes by we forget stuff. It’s sad we can’t remember everything. But there is one thing you can do to help: write letters to your baby. I started a diary when I found out about my pregnancy and I just kept writing. Of course I couldn’t write every week like I had initially planned, but I write every month, telling them what happened during that month, what they learned, which challenges we faced, how I’m feeling, how I love them, how lucky I am to be their mother.

There are other special topics: the kids’ first 100 words, when they learned to walk, trips we took together, a special random moment. And, of course, the endless funny stories and hilarious things they say. So far it’s all gathered in a group chat I have with myself on Telegram but I plan to design a cute book on Canva and print them, each year will be an edition. And I dream about the day we will look at them together.

Take Videos

On the same topic, this was a piece of advice I heard from other parents and I’m so grateful they said it. They told me: don’t rely only on photos, take videos to help keep the memories alive. We forget the way they move and talk (plus they change so fast) and videos are a great way to remember the special moments. I love to watch the video of my kids when they were newborns. The way they moved was so special and we truly forget that because they are always learning new stuff.

Be Careful With Instagram

That platform is full of influencers living a very different lifestyle than most people, and they sell that lifestyle like it’s something everyone can achieve. Like it’s something every mom should be doing. There’s also a bunch of people and companies trying to sell you courses on how to be a good mother. Be careful especially with the sleep courses. There is also a crazy amount of comparison and competition on who is the best mother or who is the best baby.

It will make you feel like you are doing something wrong and you don’t need that. Seriously, be careful with the content you watch. Pregnancy and postpartum are very sensitive phases, you don’t need to add stress to them by watching people living their “perfect” lives.

Cook And Freeze Meals Before The Baby Arrives

Thankfully, my partner loves to cook. When I was in my third trimester, he decided to cook and freeze some meals so we would have something ready after the baby arrived. He slightly exaggerated and ended up making over 70 savory crepes (or were they burritos?), which was great! It helped a lot.

If you don’t feel like doing it yourself, ask your family and friends to cook for you so you can just freeze the meals. I recently heard about a different type of baby shower: one where friends help get things done, like deep cleaning the house, washing and folding the baby’s clothes, organizing the nursery and the kitchen, and cooking or freezing meals for when the baby arrives. How cool is that?

Buy a Baby Carrier

You will need a carrier more than a crib. At least I did because the baby could always sleep on my bed. Study about the types of carriers and safety rules of babywearing. You can carry your baby close to you from day 1 and it helps so much. If you don’t want people touching and holding your newborn, just pop them in. If they don’t want to sleep or are fussy or don’t stop crying, pop them in. If you want to go for a walk or maybe do the dishes, pop them in. I could spend the whole day naming reasons to get a carrier, but the bottom line is: it just makes life infinitely easier.

Information Is Your Most Powerful Tool

I come from Brazil, where the system is broken and it’s really hard to trust that doctors are doing what is best for you and your baby. Most of the time, they have their own best interests at heart. Not yours. So my advice is: information is your most powerful tool. No one has the ability to take it from you. So study about everything that is important to you — from pregnancy to introducing solids to raising your kids. Everything. I will list here the things that were important to me.

Study About Birth

Don’t trust other people’s experiences. Study about natural birth and about a C-section. Understand every single phase of birth, what will happen to your body during each phase. Understand how a C-section is done and what it takes to recover from the surgery. Understand what can happen when you get an epidural. Understand how inductions are made. And then make your decision.

In my opinion, it’s good to have a plan A, plan B and plan C in mind. Things probably won’t go as planned anyway, but if you are well informed, you will be able to fight for your rights and no one will deceive you. Also, your partner should have all that information because it’s really hard to advocate for yourself when you are in labour.

Study About Feeding (breastfeeding and formula) Before Having Your Baby

Each mother has her own journey and what is right for one mother might not be best for you. If you want to breastfeed, don’t rely on your instincts because this is not instinctive at all. Study so you can understand what colostrum is, what happens when milk is coming in, how to deal with engorgement (usually your grandmother will tell you to take a hot shower - that will only make it worse) and what is a good latch looks like. And wait, because even if you scored 100 on the written exam, you still need your baby to do the final test. If you want to use formula, you need to understand the cost and logistics that this will involve. Again, my advice is study.

Study About Elimination Communication/Natural Infant Hygiene

Not because you have to use cloth diapers or potty train at an early age. Not because your baby must be the first one to let the diapers go. But because not every baby’s cry means colic. Sometimes it is infant dyschezia and you can treat it by just holding your baby in the right position, avoiding unnecessary medication. By doing that, you help them understand the process of pooping. My daughter needed help until she was 3.5 months. After that, it got much easier. But during those 3.5 months we learned her cues and were able to help her when she needed to poop. Her crying basically stopped.

I also know some parents that had to go to the hospital or used a suppository with their babies because they were X days without pooping. Maybe that could have been avoided by simply putting the baby in the Natural Infant Hygiene position.

Find a Good Doctor

You will live each pregnancy once. You will deliver your baby once. There is no redo. You should feel comfortable with your doctor, it has to be someone you trust. My first doctor was my old OBGYN and after our first appointment she refused to talk to me about natural birth. Next appointment, the same thing happened. I didn’t sleep until I found a doctor that I could really trust. Best decision I ever made. She didn’t let me down. I had amazing prenatal care, she answered all my questions during our appointments and she really supported me during birth.

Your Instincts Matter

I heard from so many friends (and from my own thoughts) that they were afraid of “doing something wrong” with the baby. This makes me so sad because I know how much love they are giving them, and all their struggles and sacrifices. But I also know we have all been there. No mother should feel guilty for doing what she thinks is best for her child. Keep your baby close to you, they will not grow up to be spoiled because of that. Let them sleep on your bed if you want, they won’t stay there forever. Breastfeed until you believe it is enough. We live in the Information Era but sometimes too much information can make us feel like we are doing something wrong. Studying is really important but so is listening to your instincts. You know what’s best for your own baby, mama.

So, that’s it! That is my own list of unsolicited advice. Is there any advice you usually pass along to your friends? What is something you wish you had heard when you went through this experience for the first time?

Subscribe now

The mom I prepared to be when I first got pregnant. The mom I became when I held my daughter in my arms for the very first time. The mom that was able to mourn the woman left behind and that knew life would never be the same.

I know this doesn’t happen to everyone and I’m not trying to romanticize motherhood, but enjoyed almost every single moment since the day I found out I was pregnant. Actually, even before, when I just felt that I was pregnant. I enjoyed both my pregnancies, giving birth, breastfeeding, and even waking up in the middle of the night to feed my babies. I was calm and able to listen to my instincts. Most of my free time was spent researching, reading, and learning. I loved it, and I felt good at it. It was the best version of myself that I had ever met.

I miss the mom I used to be. That mom was natural. Optimistic.

I remember at that time people telling me I should focus on myself, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to feel that moment deep in my soul. All I wanted was to focus on being a mother. Soak it all in. It was fun and exciting getting to know that new woman. Even when I was being introduced to new fears and feelings (which was very exhausting mentally speaking) I still managed to enjoy the moment. The transformation.

I miss the mom I used to be. That mom was peaceful. Present.

But then… life happened.

We faced issues that I never thought we would. At the end of my second trimester, right as I was entering the third, my partner had a seizure in the middle of the night, scaring the hell out of me. This seizure was so intense he fractured two vertebrae and had to use a medical vest for over two months. And we only found out a month later. He was in pain for weeks, and the doctors at the hospital kept telling us that it was normal. In the middle of that, we spent a month in Australia where he carried our then 15-month-old baby and all our baggage. But that’s a whole other story. Anyway… because of the injury, he was unable to pick up our daughter, which threw him into a depressive state. Then my daughter caught bronchiolitis and pneumonia twice in one month. That broke me. To top it off, I got the flu and coughed so much that my ribs got inflamed. Because of the pregnancy, my anti-inflammatory options were… none. After we all finally got better (thankfully), my son was born.

Just like that, I was now divided into two mothers. And I hadn’t prepared myself for that. I didn’t prepare myself for feeling that way, for wanting to be in two places at once, all while still processing everything we had been through since the night of the seizure.

I miss the mom I used to be. That mom was fun. Spontaneous.

Then I got my period back and the hormones wrecked me. I became deeply depressed and incredibly stressed. I couldn’t find joy in motherhood anymore. Actually, I couldn’t find joy in anything. I spent the whole day wishing for bedtime just so I could be alone. I started yelling at my kids, and I stopped recognizing myself. It was a very dark time. I hate that I showed the part of myself that I dislike the most to the people that I love the most. This comes with a lot of shame and guilt, and those feelings were eating me alive.

I miss the mom I used to be. Where is that mom?

To finish this story, I went to my OBGYN, who mentioned something about PMDD. Now I’m back on the pill and I’m feeling better each day. But I can’t say I’m back to normal because I’m not that mom anymore. I feel overwhelmed and I still have bad days. I’m suffering from sensory overload. I crave silence. Now I’m finally mourning the mom I used to be. It hurts to realize I’m not that person anymore, because when I look back, I still think she was the best version of myself I’ve ever met. And I know I will never go back to being her.

I miss the mom I used to be.

But I’m learning to let her go. I’m learning to welcome this new mom with an open heart. I can feel that she is stronger than the old one. Certainly more resilient and confident. More empathetic and far less judgmental, especially toward other mothers. She is way more complex. And carries her own dreams and ambitions alongside her love for her kids.

I miss the mom I used to be. Maybe I will always miss her. And maybe… that’s okay.

Subscribe now

As soon as we left our apartment, I crossed paths with a dad on his bike, he smiled, shouted “Super Mama!” and pedaled off. This simply made my day. I thought to myself “hell yeah, I am a Super Mama!” but it made my wonder why don’t people recognize this more often?

Back in Brazil I used to go to the supermarket with the kids all the time. Actually I used to go everywhere with the kids. No one ever congratulated me for it. But every time my husband went out with the kids (or even just one kid) he always came back saying that someone told him how cool it was to see him going out with them, how nice it was to see him babywearing, that he was doing a good job, etc. All those things are true, but why do we congratulate dads when they do the bare minimum while remaining silent towards moms as if they were just doing their job?

This is not a criticism of my partner, who is an amazing person, the best dad I could possibly imagine (I always say he does everything, the only thing he doesn’t do is breastfeeding - only because he can’t - but still supports and cares for me while I do it) and takes care of the house just like I do. This is a criticism of how society treats moms vs dads.

There’s a lot to unpack here, I could spend hours and days talking about the mental load mothers carry alone in most families, or how the corporate world rewards fathers and punishes mothers when it comes to salaries and opportunities. But today I am aiming for something much smaller.

So let’s get some things straight:

• A child is as much their father’s responsibility as they are their mother’s;

• Dads are not helping when they take care of their own children. They are parenting;

• All care must be shared: feeding, bathing, and park trips, but also the mental work like remembering to buy diapers, booking doctor appointments, knowing their shoe size, and the teacher’s name;

• Sometimes moms are entitled to do the bare minimum as well;

• Moms deserve more “me time” than just a shower;

I am not saying we should stop congratulating dads, they are also doing their jobs and it’s nice being appreciated. But we need to start valuing the work mothers do. It doesn’t have to be a grand gesture. Sometimes, a simple “Super Mama!” is enough to make someone’s day.

So yeah, mama, you are doing a great job!

P.S. If you have something you’d like to add to this list, please let me know in the comments!

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

You spend your time dreaming about the baby and planning everything. (Trust me, you can’t plan 10% of that with your second baby because you are too busy running after your kid. Plus, you are not that special anymore because now you have a child and that child is the most special thing in the universe - not you.)

And then comes a very well-intentioned someone (a friend, your sister in law, a cousin’s wife) and hands you a spreadsheet with all the things you need to buy for the baby. Along with the spreadsheet comes a mountain of unsolicited advice from everywhere. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love a spreadsheet - anyone that worked with me knows that very well. And I did use that said spreadsheet to organize all that stuff with my first born. So, what exactly am I complaining about? Let’s get into it before this gets any more confusing.

My criticism is of the content of those lists and the pressure to believe everything on them is indispensable. That is a huuuuge list of crap you absolutely don’t need. But a lot of well intentioned people will tell you need that stuff in order to keep your baby well and safe, to be a good mother, to survive the first year with a baby, to feel happy and fulfilled. On top of that there are all those influencers on Instagram reinforcing the idea of a perfect motherhood. I feel so lucky to have a mom that loves to simplify everything in life and that doesn’t care about a beautiful picture on Instagram. When I was pregnant, she told me: a baby only needs their mama, diapers and infinite burp cloths. She was so right!

It didn’t matter that my baby didn’t have a perfect nursery when she was born. It mattered that her mother was happy and was focusing on her baby, on recovering from birth and on learning to breastfeed. It didn’t matter that most of her clothes were hand me downs from her cousin. It mattered that she was dressed and warm. (To be completely honest, I preferred the hand me downs because they seemed more soft and comfortable than the new ones.) It didn’t matter that we didn’t used matching outfits when we left the hospital. It mattered that we were well, healthy and we were home. It didn’t matter that all she had was bought at a local store instead of a fancy one. It mattered that she was feeling safe in my arms.

Now hear me out: I am not saying you can’t buy matching outfits for your baby or that beautiful nursery is pointless. All I am saying is don’t feel pressured to buy anything you don’t want to. Listen to your instincts, do your research and then make the decision that will make you feel good. This is your time. This is your baby. Your opinion matters the most - not your mother-in-law’s, not your friend’s, or your neighbor’s.

That being said, of course there are so many things that really make our life easier. I will come back to share what did help me, but that will be a whole new post. I truly hope you are leaving this post feeling a little less pressured. Remember: your baby just needs you (plus diapers, some clothes and lots of burp cloths).

Subscribe now

Babywearing makes life so much easier! Sometimes my baby was fussy and nothing made her feel at ease. Those moments were very stressful. Then I found out that I could put her in the sling and just walk around the house or go outside for a little bit and she would calm down, sometimes she would take naps while being carried. And then I had some “free time” to do some chores or maybe even watch a movie while she was sleeping. She hated her stroller so when I wanted to go outside I had to use any type of carrier. It became natural for me. I always have a carrier in my bag, usually the Chicachila Pocket. (There is a Brazilian brand - Dona Chica Slingueria - that sells a pouch that has a “hidden” buckle carrier and I never leave the house without it. Literally, I have it at all times, it has saved me so many times.)

But I realized that there wasn’t much organized information about it. There are some profiles that I absolutely love and taught me so much about babywearing, but as I’ve mentioned before, I like to have everything organized and I couldn’t find a page like that. If you want to find something specific, you have to search on those profiles and pray that you find what you are looking for (because that’s how social media works). So I created an instagram profile and my goal was to post some info about babywearing but, being a person who doesn’t feel comfortable with the social media spotlight, I did my inicial posts but never updated the profile and it’s now full of cobwebs. But now I have my own page and will post more on babywearing, the types of carriers that exist and how to wear them safely.

Subscribe now

So now I stay at home with the kids while my partner goes to work. In Brazil, when I was bored or overwhelmed, I could play the grandparents card and go to their house so I could talk to other adults and eat a snack in peace while they were pampering the kids. Now I’m trying to figure out how to take care of the kids while trying to keep the house clean (maybe livable?) while trying to find moments of joy in the chaos of motherhood.

I love to plan and organize a lot. (And I am very good at that, you need to see my spreadsheets.) But lately not only don’t I have the time to do it but I also don’t have the mental space to do it. So now I’m trying to embrace the Life Unscripted. Some days are great, some other days are not. On some days I’m the perfect mother, on some days I’m not. Sometimes the house is tidy, but most of the time it is so messy.

Then I decided to do something for myself and write about my journey: I lived 2 beautiful pregnancies, have really cool birth stories, I like to meal prep, I have tons of recipes for snacks, I created all the decoration for my daughter’s 2nd birthday party using mostly cardboard, I traveled to Australia with a 1 year old while pregnant, then moved to Germany with 2 kids… some experiences to share. Or at least I will bring everything together in one place.

Subscribe now