If I could sit down with my pregnant self, I think I’d just give her a big hug. She was so focused on getting everything ready the tiny clothes, the pram, the perfectly folded hospital bag and had no idea what was really coming. Not in a scary way, just in that deep, messy, beautiful, becoming someone new kind of way.
Back then, I thought I just needed to be organised. What I actually needed was a bit of compassion, a few more freezer meals, and someone to say, “You don’t need to have it all figured out. You’re allowed to find your way as you go.”
If I could do it all again, this is what I’d tell her.
You’re not supposed to feel like yourself right now
I wish someone had told me that it’s normal to feel completely different, because you are different. There’s this word for it: matrescence. It’s the physical, emotional, and mental transformation that happens when you become a mum. Your brain changes, your priorities shift, and your old sense of self starts to make room for the new one.
And yes, that can feel weird and emotional and sometimes really uncomfortable. But it doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re growing into the mum you’re meant to be.
If I could go back, I’d tell myself to stop trying to feel “normal” and just let myself evolve. You’re not broken, you’re just becoming.
Sort your mental health like it’s a baby essential
I spent hours researching bassinets and baby carriers, but not once did I think about how I’d take care of my headspace. Looking back, that was a big miss.
I wish I’d booked a few therapy sessions before the baby even arrived, not because something was wrong, but because I knew I’d need space to process everything. It’s wild how much we prepare for the physical stuff, but forget the emotional load that comes with it.
If you’re pregnant or planning, put “mental health” on your prep list. Find a psychologist or counsellor you like now. You’ll thank yourself later.
Your baby isn’t broken (and neither are you)
Oh, the sleep stress. I lost so many nights trying to make my baby sleep “better,” convinced I was doing it wrong. Every book, every blog, every “expert” seemed to have a rule, and none of them matched what my baby was actually doing.
Here’s what I know now: most of that advice is cultural, not biological. Babies wake because they need connection. They feed often because they’re growing. They want to be close because it helps them feel safe.
The moment I stopped fighting that and just worked with it, everything softened. I slept more, worried less, and actually started to enjoy those middle-of-the-night snuggles. You don’t need to teach your baby to sleep. You both just need rest, however that looks.
Feed yourself like you matter
I used to grab a piece of toast and tim tams and call it lunch, wondering why I felt so drained all the time. It took me ages to realise that the way I ate was affecting everything, my mood, my milk supply, my patience.
If I could do it again, I’d fill my freezer before birth with soups, muffins, curries, whatever I could reheat one-handed. And when people asked how they could help, I’d say, “Food. Please bring food.”
It’s not indulgent to nourish yourself. It’s essential. You can’t pour from an empty cup, and you definitely can’t mother on muesli bars alone.
Grace over guilt, every time
If I could only give one piece of advice, it’d be this.
You don’t have to be a super mum. You don’t have to love every second. You don’t have to “bounce back.” You just have to show up with love, even when it’s messy and you’re tired and your hair hasn’t been washed in a week.
I wish I’d known that rest counts. That asking for help is brave. That doing less sometimes means caring more.
You’re already doing enough. Truly.
A little reminder before you go
Motherhood isn’t something you get “right.” It’s something you live through, learn from, and grow within. Some days will stretch you thin, others will fill you right up. Both are normal. Both are part of it.
So if today’s a rough one, take a breath. Make a cuppa. Remember that you’re doing your best, and that’s more than enough.
You’re not alone in this, mama. You never were.
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