When I think about some of my heaviest moments in early postpartum, I picture myself in a dark room during witching hour, bouncing on a yoga ball for hours on end because it was the only way to keep my son calm, silently sobbing, absolutely desperate for someone to come in and hold me. 

The first three months of motherhood were by far the hardest of my life. I felt raw, completely opened up emotionally, confused, lost, and painfully alone. Here I was, expected to care for this newborn I’d waited my entire life for, but I had never felt more like a newborn myself. I desperately needed someone to come in, to take my baby, to care for me. I desperately needed to be held.

I know for a fact that every other mother has felt this exact same way at some point in their mothering journey. We have a baby and suddenly we are expected to “enjoy every moment”, to instantly bond with our baby, to forget our birth experience, to give up all of our hobbies, to have the answer to every mothering question because we should just know how to mother without any previous experience, to silently navigate the road of matrescence, all while holding two lives together at the same time. 

This isn’t right, and it isn’t possible. We all need help, elder wisdom, solitude, space to process, passions, knowledge. We mothers all need to be held sometimes. I’m here to do that for you, to remind you that you were never meant to do this by yourself; to hold you the way you deserve to be held.