We’re here to remind you that you’re not alone and give you some love, support and tools to help push you through the rough stuff. Even when you feel hopeless.

That oxygen mask? It’s okay to not want to share it at first with our offspring. Even when we do, we have no choice but to put ours on first. Mama’s mental health and self-care has to always be at the top of the to-do list.

We Want To Help You Get There

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Join me during Maternal Mental Health Week for the #MakingOverMotherhood Challenge by getting real about motherhood on social media. There is no such thing as perfect and we can’t do it alone.

Sign Up Here
 

REAL STORIES

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Here’s where we get real. Read stories of postpartum depression and anxiety shared by moms who understand that new mommy life isn’t always the way it looks on Instagram.  

COMMUNITY SUPPORT

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The struggle is real and we’re attacking it head on, together. Connect, share, empathize and get advice from like-minded moms and experts who speak your language.

PERMISSION SLIPS

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Your weekly reminder that you’re not alone and dose of love and support to help push you through the rough stuff. Even when you feel hopeless. It’s OKAY to not be OKAY.

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Share Your Story…

We need to get real about maternal mental health. Share and help us destroy the stigma and shame surrounding maternal mental health once and for all.

Mamas, if you’re suffering, you are not alone. In fact, you are in amazing company. There is nothing to be ashamed of.

 

REAL STORIES FROM REAL MOMS

STORIES
Chelsea's Story
Chelsea's Story
Claire's Story
Claire's Story
Jamie's Story
Jamie's Story

By the time I was 31, I had lost my parents, including my stepdad. I lost my stepdad in 2007, my mom a month after my wedding in 2014, and my dad three months after our first child was born in 2017. I know I’m not alone in this, but it sure feels that way. 

Jennifer's Story
Jennifer's Story
Abgail's Story
Abgail's Story
Charlene's Story
Charlene's Story
Adina's Story
Adina's Story
Sammantha's Story
Sammantha's Story
Erin's Story
Erin's Story
Rebecca's Story
Rebecca's Story

“Not only does she get real about what postpartum depression is like, but shows moms who are struggling that there is another side. With a topic that is often presented without hope, her narrative is not only important — but life-saving.” -Sarah Schuster, Mental Health Editor at The Mighty

FEATURED IN

“TRULY, ONE OF THE BEST THINGS ABOUT INSTAGRAM IS THIS ACCOUNT!”

Again, isn’t this type of thinking a problem? Doesn’t that smile fool people? Shouldn’t she be able to walk outside without putting on the smile? Shouldn’t we redefine what it means to be a superwoman or superhero or supermom? Mamas, can you weigh in please!
Seriously. You don't know someone else's story. You don't know what they are going through. It's none of your f**king business. Maybe they don't want kids. Maybe they can't have kids. Maybe they are trying and struggling. On the subject of pregnancy and children, wait for the other person to share first. And even when they do, again, empathy, support and compassion... (credit @yaabarbie, @wearerobyn) #nationalinfertilityawarenessweek #niaw2019
This week’s story is shared by Chelsea (@poodleslayer ) - link in bio and stories for full post. . So, after nine nearly anxiety-free months, there I was, in the delivery room, happy as a clam--or as happy as you can be while in labor. My ten-pound son graced the Earth with his presence late one morning in May and for the next two days, cloistered in our room at the birthing center, the world was bliss. . When it came time to go home, I felt a heavy weight drape over me. Tears began streaming from my eyes. When my husband asked me what was wrong, I said, “There’s just so much bad that we won’t be able to protect him from. It’s so scary and I love him so much. I wasn’t expecting it to feel like this.” Our arrival home was anything but pleasant. I immediately whisked myself and our son upstairs to our bedroom and stayed there for the next twenty-four hours. It was there, in our room, that I felt safe. Sitting on our bed, tears ran down my face. I felt fragile again. . Honestly, the next two weeks were a blur, but what I do recall is telling myself, and possibly my husband, over and over that my varying moods were normal, a part of being a new mom, and that I had nothing to be sad or scared about. My son latched without trouble and he was an easy baby. While we were exhausted, pure joy filled me when I looked at this little being. Outside of this bubble however, I was a different person. . Two weeks after our son was born, my in-laws came to town and I was in really rough shape. I was angry, upset, and territorial. I hid away in our room every chance I got, saying that I needed to breastfeed or my son needed to nap. I think I was screaming for help.The next year and a half had its ups and downs. We were happy but something still wasn’t quite right in our home. Around five months after giving birth, I finally spoke to my midwives who referred me to a therapist specializing in women’s health and postpartum depression, which I was diagnosed with. . I saw the therapist for a while and when I thought I was better, I ended treatment. It probably won’t surprise anyone when I say that I wasn’t better. Not in the least...(link in bio for the rest).
Ugh, why do we do this? Why do we have to do this? I do this all the time. As if I just need you to remember and I need to remind myself that just because I'm going to talk shit about my kid or motherhood, that I still love him, that I'm still a good mom. Shouldn't we just be able to come right out and say what we want to say? Without justification? We are allowed to feel all the things and they have nothing to do with our love for our children. These less popular, messier feelings and emotions don't make us bad moms. They make us human.