In July 2024 after a fairly easy 7 hour induced labor I gave birth to my beautiful baby girl Eloise (Ellie). We had wanted her more than anything in the world. We tried for 3 years, did 3 or 4 assisted cycles, had 2 rounds of IUI, and when we eventually got that positive test we were overwhelmed with joy. Mitch had dremed of becoming a father since he was a young boy, and this was something I’d wanted most of my adult life. Mitch and me and our four dogs were a family, but we both were so excited to add to it and raise a small human who would be a positive force in this world.

When I got pregnant I was managing a bar in downtown Nashville. Running a bar like that was a dream I’d had for many years, and when Mitch and I first started dating I’d been very clear that after having a baby I’d likely go back to work. I loved taking care of a group of bartenders and keeping a bar a fun and exciting place for guests to go. But a few months into my pregnancy, it because very clear to me that going back to work, at least where I was currently working, wasn’t going to be a great choice. With coordinating daycare, Mitch’s early schedule and my late schedule, we’d never all be together, and the little bit of extra money isne making after paying for daycare just wasn’t worth the stress.

The transition to being a stay at home mom was so much harder than I ever could have imagined. I was used to being in charge of a space, seeing many new people every day, and keeping things running as smoothly and efficiently as possible. In the early days I coped by starting lots of projects and checklists around the house. Before Ellie was born Mitch would come home to me painting the walls or deep cleaning the stairs or to a list of 50 things I wanted him to do before the baby was born. He was such a good sport, but I could also tell he definitely wanted me to find my “thing”. I was lucky enough to have Mitch home for a month after Ellie was born, I honestly don’t know how I would have made it without him. I got mastitis twice in the first month, and once more at about 3 months postpartum. When I eventually had to quit breastfeeding at 3 months, the depression hit me really hard. I felt like the thing I was designing to do as a woman, feed my child, was broken and that I was a failure. I knew that she would be just fine with formula, but that didn’t really change the way I felt. I contacted my OB for a referral for mental health support, but they didn’t have anyone there, and all the websites and numbers they gave me said the other earliest they could see me was about 6 weeks. With no chance at any mental health support from a professional, I turned to an old friend; writing. I’d journaled through most of my adolescence, and anytime I was ever going through something difficult writing it out was how I survived. I also assumed that is finding mental health support was this difficult for me, I probably wasn’t the only one.

This blog, in conjunction with the Messy Mama Instagram, exists for the moms who are making it work, who are struggling to find their identity in motherhood, and who are taking life one wake window at a time. Your hair may be a mess, you might not know the last time you showered, and your new middle name may be overstimulated, but your kids are fed, dressed, and loved and that’s all that matters. If I am able to help one mom with this blog, I will consider this a success! So please comment, reach out, and follow me on Instagram so that we can grow our messy mama village.