Written by: Mia Nalic, LMSW, Perinatal Therapist & Maternal Mental Health Outreach Coordinator
Joyous, blissful, magical. These are some of the adjectives we often see to describe motherhood. Yet, for many, these sentiments do not feel true to their own lived experience. Whether you have wanted to become a parent your whole life or never imagined this path for yourself, once you arrive at this stage of life, the transition to parenthood is inherently hard. Becoming a parent is arguably one of the biggest transitions a person can experience. No ifs, ands, or buts.
We live most of our lives within some sense of control and predictability. We wake up and go to sleep around the same time each day, make plans and appointments based on one or two schedules, and decide at the drop of a dime when we need a break or want to leave the house. A large portion of adulthood is defined by autonomy and choice. Our routines provide stability amidst life’s inevitable uncertainties.
So, what happens when a small, unpredictable, crying, hungry baby is added into the mix? Suddenly, our sense of stability falters. The routines and structures we once relied on no longer function the same way, and we are asked to adapt physically, emotionally, mentally, and relationally all at once.
What makes this transition especially difficult is that parenthood often requires us to hold multiple truths at once. You can deeply love your child and still grieve the parts of your life that changed. You can feel grateful and overwhelmed. You can feel connected one moment and completely depleted the next. These experiences are not mutually exclusive, yet many parents fear saying them out loud because they worry what it might say about them.
The reality is that becoming a parent often cracks open every part of your identity. It challenges your sense of self, your relationships, your routines, your confidence, and your capacity in ways you could never fully prepare for ahead of time. There is no amount of reading, planning, or wanting this life that can completely prepare someone for the emotional, physical, and mental weight that can accompany it.
Unfortunately, societal expectations often create more space for guilt and shame than they do for honesty. We are encouraged to highlight the joyful parts of parenthood while quietly hiding the messy, painful, exhausting, or lonely parts; when we feel pressure to only show the “good,” we often begin hiding the parts of ourselves that are struggling.
Keeping those feelings tucked away can create a heavy burden. Silence often leads to isolation, isolation feeds guilt, and guilt eventually turns into shame. When you sit alone with your anxious thoughts, sadness, rage, or exhaustion, it becomes easy to believe you are the only one who feels this way. Shame grows in the quiet spaces. It tries to convince you that your struggles are a personal shortcoming rather than a reflection of how difficult this transition truly is.
And still, many parents continue to suffer silently because somewhere along the way they learned that struggling means they are failing. That if they admit they are having a hard time, they must be ungrateful, incapable, or not cut out for parenthood. But struggling during a major life transition does not make you a bad parent. It makes you human.
As a perinatal therapist, I often remind parents that emotions are not indicators of their worth or their ability to parent well. Feelings are information, not moral judgments. Exhaustion does not mean you love your child any less. Anxiety does not mean you are weak. Sadness does not mean you made the wrong choice. These feelings deserve compassion, curiosity, and support rather than criticism and shame.
There is also immense power in speaking honestly about your experience. When one person says, “This is harder than I expected,” it quietly gives someone else permission to exhale and admit they feel the same way. Vulnerability creates connection. It interrupts the isolation that shame depends on to survive.
The more we normalize honest conversations about the complexity of parenthood, the more space we create for parents to seek support without fear of judgment. We begin to move away from unrealistic expectations and toward a more compassionate and truthful understanding of what this transition can look like. Not just the beautiful moments, but also the lonely ones, the exhausting ones, the confusing ones, and the moments where you wonder if anyone else could possibly understand.
Speaking up about your experience does not make you negative or ungrateful. It makes you honest. And honesty can be incredibly courageous and healing, both for yourself and for the people quietly sitting beside you in the same struggle.
You were never meant to carry the weight of this transition alone.
You Don’t Have to Figure This Out Alone
If any part of this post felt familiar — if you found yourself nodding along, exhaling a little, or thinking I didn’t know anyone else felt this way — that recognition is exactly what community can offer.
The Motherhood Center’s free virtual support groups are designed for new and expecting moms/birthing parents who are navigating the emotional weight of this transition. These groups are not clinical treatment, but they are a meaningful place to connect with others who truly get it — people in the thick of the same struggle, held by an experienced facilitator who understands perinatal mental health. Current groups include:
- Birth Trauma Support Group — Mondays, 12:00–1:00 PM ET, for those processing a traumatic or distressing birth experience
- Pregnancy Support Group — Mondays, 5:00–6:00 PM EST, for moms/birthing people processing the emotional experience of pregnancy
- Postpartum Support Group — Tuesdays, 3:00–4:00 PM ET, for those feeling depressed, overwhelmed, and/or anxious, or up to one year postpartum
All groups are held virtually via Zoom, and babies are always welcome on screen.
Group schedules are subject to change — visit themotherhoodcenter.com or call (212) 335-0034 to confirm current offerings and register.