How to overcome it, mama.
Technology isn't the only reason today's parents feel pressure to be 'always on'—here's how we can better support them.
The demands of motherhood laughed at my idea of picture-perfect motherhood. Every night I went to bed feeling like I had failed my children.
Will I do everything in my power to give my baby everything she needs and more? Absolutely. Will I neglect myself and the time and care I require to be the best version of myself? Absolutely not.
We know what to do in our hearts and we know in our guts.
This was the teaching moment. This was the moment to make it count.
Your definition of 'fearless' changes.
Mothers today do far more work with far fewer resources than mothers of the past—and if things are going to change, then we need to start really valuing the work women do as mothers
These women didn't trip and fall into a dark well of motherhood. They chose to be involved mothers, set an intention for who they wanted to be as a mother and as a woman and allowed their choices, shifts or pauses to open up new ways to think and feel.
To all the mamas out there who feel like today is just not going the way you had hoped, who feel like with every step you take, you're making a wrong turn, you are more than enough. You are learning. You are growing.
Even when Elliot started sleeping through the night, I didn't. I would wake up around 4 am to pump under moonlight, worried my milk supply would drop.
How could a mother part with the hospital newborn cap—the one that, if you squeeze your eyes shut and sniff really deeply, still smells a little like fresh baby?
My baby, with rose-petal lips and a perfect fan of lashes, with skin as flawless as a cloudless sky, she won't be this small ever again.
A conversation with the author of Drop the Ball: Achieving More By Doing Less.
Without a doubt, I'm getting better at it. Motherhood is like a muscle that just keeps getting stronger, every time you use it.
Losing yourself for the sake of your children will be something I never, ever regret. Instead, it will be something I am forever grateful for.
For the first time in nine years I'm not pregnant or nursing a baby.
My kids are teenagers—but I feel like I'm right back in that newborn stage.
What if we all admitted that motherhood can be so, so hard sometimes? What if, after we did that, then we asked for help from the people we love? Or what if we just took it when it was offered to us? Without fear or guilt or inadequacy or feeling like we owe them or beating ourselves up over it?