Being a New Mum is Damn Hard, And That’s Okay

My very first post on New Moms forum and let’s get one thing straight: bringing a baby into the world is nothing short of massive.

Your body’s been through a war zone. Your hormones are on a bouncy castle. Your whole identity just did a backflip. And in the middle of all that? You’re expected to keep a tiny human alive on broken sleep and toast crusts. No wonder new motherhood feels like being hit by a truck, then being handed a crying baby.

I remember standing in the kitchen on day four, boobs leaking, mascara smudged, trying to butter a crumpet one-handed while my newborn screamed in my arms. I hadn’t showered. I hadn’t eaten anything that wasn’t beige. And I cried because someone had used the last clean muslin. That was the day I realised I was in the thick of it.

The Myth of the “Natural” Mum

There’s this sneaky little myth that motherhood should come naturally. That you’ll just know what to do. Spoiler: most of us don’t. Not at first. You’re learning on the job while severely sleep-deprived and emotionally tender. It’s not instinct. It’s survival mode, with Google, group chats, and a lot of guesswork.

So if you’re fumbling through feeds or feeling more rage than radiance, you’re not broken. You’re normal.

The Emotional Whiplash Is Real

New motherhood is a heady mix of love, fear, boredom, joy, grief, pride, and panic. Sometimes all before 9 am. You can look at your baby and feel your heart explode with love. Then five minutes later be googling “how to leave your house forever.”

That doesn’t make you a bad mum. It makes you human.

Your whole world has shifted. Your routines, your relationships, your body. None of it feels like yours anymore. And that disorientation? That’s grief. Not because you don’t love your baby. But because you’re allowed to miss the version of you that had free time, a working bladder, and didn’t cry at nappy adverts.

Struggling Doesn’t Mean You’re Failing

Repeat that until it sticks. Struggling means you’re doing it. You’re showing up, trying, caring. Even when it’s messy and loud and lonely. We don’t give enough credit for that.

Some days, you’ll feel like you’ve got this. Other days, you’ll wonder how anyone ever thought you were qualified for the job. That’s motherhood. It’s not linear. It’s not always Instagrammable. But it’s yours.

You’re Not Alone (Even When It Feels That Way)

The early days can feel so isolating. Everyone’s back to work. Your partner might not get it. Your phone’s full of baby spam but no one’s replying to your 3am messages. It’s a weird kind of loneliness — surrounded by nappies and noise but craving real connection.

Find your people. Whether it’s a mum mate who’ll text you memes at midnight, a local buggy walk, or an online group where everyone’s oversharing without shame. You don’t have to do this alone.

What Help Actually Looks Like

Help isn’t always big grand gestures. It’s someone holding the baby so you can shower. It’s a mate bringing coffee and not expecting you to entertain. It’s a midwife who listens without judgment. Or a partner who learns how to do the night feed properly (hint: not just “waking you up to help”).

And if the hard days outnumber the good ones? There’s zero shame in reaching out to your GP or a perinatal mental health team. Postnatal depression and anxiety are common, treatable, and absolutely not your fault.

Let’s Be Honest, Not Perfect

So here’s my truth. I didn’t fall in love with motherhood instantly. I missed my old life. I snapped at my partner. I Googled “how long until babies sleep through” about a thousand times.

But slowly, through the fog and the mess, I found my rhythm. Not every day. But enough. And you will too.

You’re not failing. You’re adjusting. You’re learning how to be you again, with a baby in the mix.

And that’s exactly why I created NewMomsForum. Because in those long, leaky, lonely weeks, what I needed most wasn’t another “how to swaddle” tutorial. I needed a place to be real. A space where other mums weren’t pretending. Somewhere I could say “today was hard” and have someone reply “me too.”

This is that space. No filters. No judgement. Just stories, support, and a reminder that you’re not in this alone.

Ever felt like this? Tell me what helped or what didn’t. We’re all ears, and we’re in this together.