The other day, I left a social gathering feeling a bit down. Just a casual meetup with the people who usually fill my cup. Nothing intimidating to a recovering introvert like me. So, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, because everything had gone great.

Then I heard them: all the negative voices screaming at me inside my head.

“You don’t belong.”

“You’re different.”

“You’re sweating and yucky.”

“You’re a bad mother. All the kids were well-behaved; yours wasn’t.”

If this had happened in the past, I know exactly what I would have done. I would have listened to them. I would have bowed my head and thought, “Yes, you are right. I’m 💩.”

But thank God, I hear these stupid voices instantly now, and I don't tolerate them. Because when it comes to talking to myself badly:

I do not.

Will not.

Shall not.

Cannot.

I am my sole companion, and I will treat myself the way I deserve to be treated.

So, I flip the script. I start saying:

“You belong in every room you enter.”

“Everyone is different; you are unique.”

“It’s hot and you’re sweating—big whoop, you’re a human in a human body.”

“You are a cool, beautiful, intelligent woman. You are a great mother, and you are doing your best. END OF SENTENCE.”

I spoke all these nice things to myself the entire way home. By the end, I was feeling much better. I was looking at the social interaction I had just left in a whole different light. Not succumbing to those bad voices—talking back instead of letting them dictate who I am, and claiming my power back—felt GREAT!

And then I saw it immediately: this is the path to changing my life.

Step 1: Hear it. Catch the negative way you talk to yourself in real-time.

Step 2: Flip the script. Counter every mean thought with a kind truth.

Step 3: Change your inner beliefs. Keep talking nicely to yourself until you truly believe that you are worthy.

Step 4: Change your actions. Once you believe you are worthy, you stop shrinking. You start showing up as the woman you actually are.

Step 5: Sit back. Watch as your life changes for the better.

You have the rest of your life to live with yourself.

Why make a hard life even harder?

Why spend your whole life belittling yourself?

Why not be your own best friend?

Why not be your own ally?

Why should you not love yourself the loudest?

Why not try to make the best life happen?

Recently, I’ve been trying to tap into my spiritual side once again. To be honest, after having kids, my spiritual side died down a bit, and I’ve really been feeling the lack of it. I feel a deep need to welcome the universe’s magic back into my life. Of course, it also helps me deal with my anxiety. On the days I do my daily practices, my anxiety level is zero to none, and on the days I skip them, my anxiety spikes. So, here are the daily practices I’m incorporating to stay aligned with the universe's path.

Morning Pages

The minute I wake up, I get my pen and paper out to write my three pages. While some days the words just spill out of me, other days are harder, and nothing seems to flow. On those days, I try these techniques:

Scripting the Future: I write about a day in my future in vivid detail. Where I am, who I’m with, and what I’m doing. I describe what I smell, see, feel, and even what I’m wearing. I try to capture everything.

Targeted Affirmations: I now deeply understand the negative thoughts I need to change, so I flip them into positive affirmations and write them until I’ve filled my three pages. For example, if I notice a lingering belief that I don’t deserve certain things, I’ll write: I deserve health. I deserve wealth. I deserve clarity.

The Normalization Technique: This is similar to affirmations but with a slightly different approach. I write my wants, desires, and dreams as if they are my current normal. This works for me because I tend to view my dreams as impossible. Making my desires ordinary and believable helps my subconscious mind manifest them. For example, if I want to be more fit and energetic, I write: My normal is feeling strong, energized, and moving through my day with effortless stamina.

Meditation

After writing my Morning Pages, I sit down to meditate. I have a rotation of meditations that range from ten minutes up to an hour. I decide what to do each day based on my mood and what the kids will allow! These are my current favorites:

Joe Dispenza's Morning Meditation: This is my go-to. It’s 25 minutes long and guides you to change your energy to become the person you envision.

(Note: During this meditation, Joe always asks who you want to become and what you are going to do that day to start becoming that person. I always make a conscious effort to follow through. For example, if I envision a healthy and fit version of myself, I put in the effort to actually do a Pilates workout that day.)

Joe Dispenza's Generating Change: I opt for this 10-minute track if I don’t have a lot of time on my hands but still want a Joe Dispenza meditation.

Boho Beautiful Meditations: These are my short and sweet meditations. I use them when the kids are all over me and my time is limited, or when I just want to be grounded in the present moment rather than focusing on the future.

Deepak Chopra's 21 Days of Abundance: I did this one last year for 21 days and loved it, so I highly recommend adding it to your list.

Louise Hay's Morning Meditation: This is a fantastic meditation for those who struggle with a very negative inner voice.

Moving My Body

After relaxing my mind, it’s time to move my body. My routine changes every day. Some days it’s a 30-minute Pilates session, a walk, or a short HIIT workout, and other days, it’s just taking the kids to the park. I make a point to do at least one of these because I notice a drastic difference when I don’t sweat my anxiety away.

(Note: I don’t push myself to work out when I'm PMSing. If I feel the need to move, I’ll opt for a gentle Yin yoga flow instead.)

Rewiring at Night

Lastly, some nights before going to bed, instead of falling asleep to The Big Bang Theory, I put on Louise Hay’s Affirmations. Drifting off to her words helps rewire my brain to be a little kinder to itself.

Keep in mind, I’m not a perfectionist anymore. I always encourage myself to show up, yes, but if I’m not feeling great that day, I adjust my practices accordingly. If I need a shorter workout, I just do 10 minutes. If I’m feeling a bit lost and crave a long meditation, I make time for that. No matter what it looks like, I always thank myself for showing up. Because this journey for me is not about being perfect—it’s about reclaiming me in a world that tries to numb you into forgetting.

What small daily practices help you reclaim yourself? Let me know in the comments below!

Having kids changed how I view myself drastically.

Before, I was never someone who could compliment myself. My inner voice was a harsh, unrelenting critic—unkind, with little to no good things to say about who I was. She never found me beautiful. She never found me worthy. She just picked apart every flaw and everything about me, day after day.

But one day, after years of tormenting me from the inside, I woke up and she was gone. Dead or departed, I don’t know. I don’t care—she was nowhere to be found. Halle-freaking-lujah.

How did this happen, you might ask?

I had kids.

Every time someone said my son had my eyes or my daughter looked just like me, it killed a little part of that mean, judgmental inner voice—slowly, but surely.

Because my kids are the absolute best things on Earth. They are beautiful. Worthy. Good.

How can I call myself ugly when I look into my daughter's face and see pure beauty?

How can I judge my own character when my son acts just like me, and I think he is the smartest, funniest person ever?

How can I call myself unworthy when I’ve been given this important duty of holding space for these two worthy beings?

The more I see myself in my kids, the more beautiful I realize I am.

The more my kids amaze me, the more amazed I am with myself.

My kids cracked open the door to self-love for me. And once that door was open, I realized something even bigger: this math doesn't just apply to my children. It applies to my entire inner circle.

Take my husband, for example. He is the best person I have ever met. He is deeply mature, spiritual, funny, and brilliant—and an extraordinary father to our kids. I am constantly in awe of him.

Or my parents, who have loved me unconditionally all my life. My mom especially—the woman who shows up on my doorstep with open arms every time i need her.

Or my girlfriends: They are the most strong, vulnerable, independent, understanding, graceful and beautiful women inside and out. They help me  and inspire me to grow and become a better person everyday.

So, if 2 + 2 = 4, then having awesome kids + a great husband + a loyal group of friends + a loving family = me being awesome and most importantly worthy, too. Because I am the one choosing them, and they are choosing me. Light attracts light, doesn't it? You can only recognize that level of greatness in others if it lives inside you, too.

If this article comes off as unabashedly self-celebratory, it’s supposed to. But not to boast—to show you what becomes possible when you stop looking in the mirror with critical eyes and start looking through the eyes of the people who love you.

Because you are beautiful.

You are worthy.

You are amazing.

Don’t believe me? Just look at the people you love, and you will see it.

Your people are the best mirror you hold.

So, this July was fruitful. I read a good amount of books and watched a greater amount of TV. Here is everything I read & watched in July.

First up, BOOKS!

Talking at Night by Claire Daverly:

This was the first book I picked up in July. I was truly very excited about it, and I wanted desperately to love it, but I just couldn’t. The book follows the lives and relationship of Will & Rosie, who get trauma-bonded when they’re in high school. Unfortunately, I found this book too slow, and I felt like there was really no valid reason for the characters to not be together. The book was desperately trying to make it seem like there was, so they were dragging and dragging the plot. I don't know, does that make sense? That’s how I felt.

My Husband’s Wife by Alice Feeney:

Loved this book. 10/10. It hooked me, and I couldn’t let go of it until it ended. The book is about Eden, who one day comes back from her daily run and finds another woman in her home—whom her husband insists is his wife.

Famesick by Lena Dunham:

So, before I get to my opinions, I must state that I am a Lena Dunham fan; I am a Girls fan. That's why I was very excited for this memoir of hers. This book started very good. I enjoyed it a lot. The way Lena Dunham writes just flows. It’s like reading myself write. But, but, but... towards the end, it got too repetitive about her sickness. It was too long for what it was. We had gotten the message, we understood that she was very, very sick, but maybe a couple of chapters should’ve been chopped by an editor? I don’t know. But overall, it was great hearing from Lena again.

Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult:

I liked this book a lot, too. Of course, being about a school shooting that upends a town's life, it was a sad and heartbreaking read. But I was hooked and couldn't leave the book for one second. I was always asking questions; I was always on the edge of my seat.

& of course, I'm still reading...

The Artist’s Way:

I will be writing a whole article on this as soon as I finish it!

That sums up my July reads. To recap:

Talking at Night: Skip.

My Husband's Wife: Read.

Famesick: Depends.

Nineteen Minutes: Read.

And on to TV we go.

Alice & Steve: Guys!!

This was so, so, so funny. Hats off to BBC. I loved it. It’s about these two middle-aged best friends, Alice & Steve. But their friendship devolves into a feud because Steve starts dating Alice’s daughter. The chemistry between Nicola Walker and Jemaine Clement was perfect. Seriously, I was laughing out loud. Perfect watch! 100% recommend!

Not Suitable For Work:

This was a cozy, fun watch. Don’t expect Emmy-worthy TV, but more like a new-age HIMYM, maybe? It follows a group of newly graduated young adults trying to make it in NYC. The characters are cute and fun, and they complement each other well. Definitely watch it if you’re looking for a new, cozy, funny TV series.

I Will Find You:

I mean, it did keep me on my toes curiosity-wise, but other than that, it wasn’t the best thing I’ve watched this month. But it’s on Netflix and it’s entertaining, so I will recommend it. It follows David Burroughs, who is wrongly imprisoned for the murder of his son. But five years later, he receives information that his son might still be alive. So, he sets out to find the truth.

The Five-Star Weekend:

I liked this one. It was fun and, frankly, give me a bad TV show in a beautiful coastal town and I’ll still watch it. But this was good. It had a little mystery going on, it had character, it had good actresses, and—I'll say it again—it had a beautiful seaside town going for it. It’s about Hollis Shaw, a famous cook & influencer who loses her husband and tries to heal in her Nantucket home with five of her close friends from different parts of her life.

The Rivals (Season 2):

Of course, first and foremost, if you haven’t watched the first season, go do that first. The Rivals Season 2 did not disappoint. It was good to reunite with all the characters. I would’ve loved to see more of Rupert and Agatha... I don’t know why they gave us another season of Agatha in pain, but so be it. I enjoyed it. For those who don't know, it's about the intense rivalry between ex-Olympian Rupert Campbell-Black and media mogul Tony Baddingham.

Maximum Pleasure Guaranteed:

L-O-V-E-D this one! Finished it in one sitting (got lucky with an early bedtime for my kids). It's about newly divorced Paula, who falls down a rabbit hole of blackmail and murder after she witnesses a crime with her cam-boy. And even though she’s in the middle of a custody battle with her ex, Paula decides to begin her own investigation into the situation.

That’s it for TV. Now onto MOVIES, ETC.

Voicemails for Isabelle:

This was a cute, might-make-you-laugh-and-cry kinda movie on Netflix. It was cute, go watch it! It’s about Jill, who still leaves her deceased little sister voicemails through her grief journey.

The Sheep Detective:

This was surprisingly fun. Surprising because, at the ripe age of 35, I didn’t think a movie about talking sheep would do much for me, but au contraire, I liked it. It’s about sheep who try to find the person who murdered their shepherd (who is Hugh Jackman, btw).

Maternal Instinct (Documentary):

Ugh, this was a tough watch. It was disgusting to see that a person—nay, a woman, nay, a mother—was capable of such evil. It’s a true-crime documentary about the chilling case of Taylor Parker, a woman who faked a pregnancy to hold onto her partner.

Ölüdeniz by Deniz Göktaş (Stand-up Comedy):

Okay, for this you need to be able to understand Turkish. But if you do, please watch. It was so nice to see such a talented Turkish artist. It is heartbreaking that he was arrested after this piece of art went viral. Feels like every good little thing is squashed in my beautiful country...

A Toxic Love Story (Documentary):

This was again a Netflix true-crime documentary. This time, about a revenge plot involving a newly married US Marshal. It was a plot twist, for sure. If you are into these kinds of true-crime docs, go watch it. If not, keep your energy clean. I feel you.

And to finish everything off, the cherry on top was...

LOVE ISLAND (UK) 2026:

No matter how enlightened I get, I will always be a sucker for good reality TV, and my friends, Love Island is goooood reality TV. The UK version, of course. I never saw the US version. Give me all the confusing UK accents, baby. I love it.

That's all of it, folks! I guess I’ll see you at the end of August.

I decided to become a bit delusional.

I have come to the decision that I am too realistic, and being too realistic is what is holding me back. I have decided I am going to start shocking my brain and body to become someone else, because the me right now is not working so much.

Does it sound crazy? Well then, great!

I have been a comfort zone girlie through and through for all my life. I came out of my mother's womb only to be forever stuck in my family’s womb all my life. I am a 35-year-old baby. I don't like discomfort, I don't like hard things, and to top it off, I really don't like effort.

Of course, I can sit here and blame my mom and my dad for protecting me from life and love-bombing me to the point where I keep thinking I'm too much of a princess to lift a finger my whole life, but that’s the old me. The new me, the delusional me, understands that the blame game doesn't work. The delusional me gets that to change is to take accountability first. I am at the steering wheel. Yes, my mother and father shaped me, but I am not made of stone. I am dough. I can learn and I can change.

So, I am officially moving myself out of my comfort zone and becoming a little bit delusional. Why? Because when I look at people I admire, they have this little craziness in their eyes. Like they don’t care about the rules, and they make their own rules. Like they don’t listen to the outside NOs, but only live through their inside voices. And I love that. Because if I could just invite you inside my head, all you would hear is, “It’s too cold, don't jump,” “Don't do that, you’ll look stupid,” “Don't wear that, you are not that person,” and so fucking on. A forever loop.

I have been listening to the outside noises more than my own voice. How is that L-I-V-I-N, living, man?

So I have officially moved on to being delusional.

Nothing is impossible.

Nothing is too hard.

Or too far.

Or too cold.

I decide who I want to be and I leap. That’s my new code. 1100111LEAP111000001111

Like, this might be such a small thing for you, but it’s the only example popping into my head right now: I have always had the hardest time getting into any body of water. I have an issue with being cold. (I have an issue with discomfort, is what it really is). And every time I’m near a body of water, I so want to be that girl who just jumps. Without thinking or obsessing about it. But no, I dip my toe and then I'm rambling: “It’s too cold. You’re gonna freeze. Why would you do that to yourself? What’s enjoyable about that? Just go inside and sit back down and stay warm.” (And getting smaller and smaller and smaller 😈).

And then I'm the girl who wished she jumped but in reality doesn't ever get in the damn water. And misses out all the time.

But not anymore. Delulu Manu to the rescue. I woke up one day and deluded myself that I love cold water. Heck, I love discomfort. Discomfort is my middle name. (I am really exaggerating right about now but go with it). And I don't think, I jump. And you know what? In those milliseconds I'm in the air, I can feel my brain rewiring. I swear. Call me crazy, I don't care, I’m literally writing an article about becoming delusional. So the next time I do it, it’s easier and easier until it has become my new normal.

Another example is meditation for me. I could never click with meditating. I would close my eyes and pretend to listen to the person telling me to relax, but in reality, I would be writing the grocery list in my mind. Or I would randomly think about a piece of clothing I used to own and try to solve the mystery of where it went. In short, I would be doing anything but breathing and relaxing, aka meditating. But one day I decided I wanted to be that girl who believes in the mysticism. Who believes in fairy goo goo ga ga. Someone who can meditate and tap into a different reality. So I deluded myself into being a meditator. I forced myself every day to show up and meditate. And day by day, I started becoming the woman I envisioned.

Ok, maybe delusional is not the right word.

Maybe I’m rewiring my brain to become someone who can change. Someone who can tolerate discomfort. Someone who can get out of their comfort zone. Someone who can just say fuck you to the voices in their head that keep them small and limited, and just do. And just become.

But if I'm being honest with myself, it does take a little bit of crazy to rewrite 35 years of programming.

But the second your feet leave the ground and you are flying through the air, you realize something magical:

You can be whoever the fuck you want to be.

You can grab any life you want by the balls and make it yours.

You just need to leap. And sometimes, to leap, you just gotta be delusional.

I promised my husband that I’d write, because apparently I’m good at it, and grownups find and stick to something they’re good at. And I am trying to grow the f*ck up at the moment.

But the problem is this: I have been in the biggest slump of my life. For months, I have been questioning a lot. Like, what the hell do I want to be doing? What am I good at? What do I enjoy? Why is it that everybody else grew up and got their dream jobs, and I’m still stuck? A "why me" would’ve gone perfectly here, but unfortunately, I have learned that the "why me" mentality doesn't work. Instead, I have to just believe that even though everything feels like shit right now, it is still going my way... [insert clown face emoji here]

I was doing social media for the longest time, but as I said, lately I’ve been questioning everything. To be honest, I don't think I'm cut from the same cloth all the other influencers are cut from. I cannot handle the criticism. And because I couldn't handle it, I decided not to share anything of depth, just to protect myself. But I am a creature who loves the deep. My superpower is how easily I can dive in, open up, and talk about anything and everything. So, the further I drifted away from depth, the more I questioned what the hell I was doing there. And to this day, I don't have an answer to that. Just sharing and not caring would’ve been perfect, but I couldn't do it. All the criticism from the outside—and the inside—just made me say, maybe this isn't my cup of tea? It might also be the spoiled brat in me that quits everything the second it gets hard, but who knows, eh?

So here I am, once again, lost in limbo and writing about the art of being lost. Because, quite frankly, that's the only thing I feel I’m good at right now: being lost. But sometimes I wonder, is being lost my safety blanket? Because the more lost I am, the less I’ll be expected to be found, and then I don't have to do anything. I don't have to put myself out there. I don't have to fight for anything. I'm lost. I'm trying to find myself. Leave me alone. Is that what I'm doing? Or am I actively trying to find something to get me out of my slump and just failing over and over again? I do not know. And please do not expect to find answers at the end of this writing, because spoiler alert: I'm still lost.

I’ve been reading The Artist’s Way. And this book has upended my life. Before this book, I was already lost—that was the reason I started reading it in the first place—but I swear I wasn’t this lost. Now, I have lost the plot I thought I knew before I even opened the damn book. But still, I'm trusting the process—letting the thoughts spill out onto my morning pages—and hoping something positive will come out of all this confusion. It always does, doesn’t it? It's just a matter of time. The only problem is, I am not a patient woman. But I guess life is forcing me to be.

So for now, my only plan is to sit here in the messy, uncomfortable unknown and just write through it. I don’t have a destination, but I’m putting one word in front of the other. Consider this my active attempt at not quitting the second things get hard.

And I know I have been like a parrot repeating the same thing over and over again, but at least I'm still trying, right?

For the billionth time then: I do not know where I’m going, but at least I'm going, no?

While making a baby registry for my pregnant friend, I realized I absolutely had to share this list with you all too. Of course, a little disclaimer first: I’m not claiming to be an expert here. This is purely based on my own experience as a mother of two who has been through this phase twice.

I’ve broken it down into 4 categories:

- THE MUST-HAVE’S. These are the things I know almost every mom finds essential.

- THE "DEPENDS ON THE SITUATION"S. These are the things that work wonders for some but do nothing for others.

- TRY FIRST, BUY LATER. This category is entirely up to your baby's preference—meaning, buy just one, try it out, and if they like it, buy the rest.

- THE USELESS ONES. The items in this category never worked for me.

THE MUST-HAVE’S:

Stroller: This is an absolute must-buy for me. I have the Babyzen Yoyo. During my first pregnancy, I listened to most of the moms around me and bought two strollers: a Cybex Priam to be my main stroller, and a Yoyo for travel. But when my son was 4 months old, I went out alone with the Cybex, struggled immensely due to its weight, immediately sold it, and moved on with my life using just the Yoyo. When the second baby came, I bought another Yoyo. Since I get asked about the Yoyo a lot, let me address it here: Yes, it doesn't recline completely flat; but no, that has never stopped my kids from sleeping there for hours during naptime.

Stroller footmuff: A winter essential!

Car seat: For 0-6 months, I used the Cybex Cloud Z. After 6 months, I moved to the Cybex Sirona Zi, and after age 3, the Cybex Solution Ti. I also have a Britax Römer as a backup, and I’m very happy with that one too.

Sling or baby carrier: Now you might ask, is this really a must-buy? 1000%. In those early days, the baby practically lives glued to you. Pop them in the sling or carrier whenever you want, go out, or just hang around the house; it makes life so much easier. Plus, for colic babies like my daughter, sometimes this is the only thing that calms them down. I used Solly Baby for the sling and Artipoppe for the carrier. Yes, it’s pricey, but feeling good during that postpartum period was priceless to me. That said, there are slings and carriers out there for every budget.

Baby monitor: I used Nanit for my first baby and loved it. For the second, I was too lazy to order another one from abroad, so I bought a Motorola. But after using Nanit, I couldn't get used to the Motorola. The screen’s battery was constantly dying, the internet connection kept dropping—it drove me crazy. So, at the first opportunity, I bought a second Nanit. It’s an expensive camera, but I think it’s absolutely worth it.

Side-sleeper pillow and/or Yataş FirstDream mattress: When they are first born, babies heads are a bit like playdough. (Per the advice of my nurse and doctor) we laid them down on different sides for every nap, and there are supportive pillows to keep them on the side you place them. I think these are also a must.

Swaddle: This might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I’m a big believer in swaddling. I swaddled both of my babies for the first 3 months. I think because they are used to the cramped environment of the womb, they definitely sleep better when swaddled, and it keeps their startle reflex from waking them up. When I saw they wanted to break free, I transitioned them from swaddles to sleep sacks. My favorite: Aden + Anais velcro swaddles.

Onesies and bodysuits: Depending on the month they are born, definitely buy about 10 each of long-sleeve, short-sleeve, and sleeveless versions.

Footed sleep bodysuits: Definitely buy the zippered ones.

Socks: Needs no explanation, I think :)

Drool bibs: Buy plenty, and buy the thick ones. :)

Diaper bin: You could use a regular trash can, but it will smell.

Muslin cloths: In every size. I used them for everything—as drool wipes, shoulder cloths, towels after a bath, blankets.

Baby thermometer: A classic underarm thermometer for the first 3 months, and an ear thermometer for afterward. I use Braun.

Changing table: It’s useful up until the point they start spinning around like a top.

Haakaa or breast milk collector: While breastfeeding from one breast, milk leaks from the other; anything that collects that milk is a must.

Nursing pillow: I think it minimizes back, neck, and arm pain. Even if you are bottle-feeding, a nursing pillow is a must for every feeding.

Room thermometer: You’ll want to see how hot, cold, or humid their room is. But if you buy the Nanit camera, you don't need this; it displays all of that.

Diaper rash cream: I mostly used Mama Earth’s Diaper Balm. But for severe diaper rash, Sudocrem.

Changing pads: Blowouts and pee can happen anywhere, at any moment; I’d say buy plenty. Especially for the car.

WaterWipes: Or any fragrance-free wet wipes.

Baby shampoo: I’ve always used Weleda.

Baby lotion: I used Weleda when they were tiny; but since both of my kids have slightly allergy-prone skin, I switched to Bioderma Atoderm.

Nail clippers: Electric sets are all nice and well, but I’ve always used baby nail clippers—that's what I felt comfortable with.

Nasal aspirator: Those noses get clogged, guys. I'm sorry, but you’re going to have to suck it in and suck it right out.

Postpartum pads: Honestly, stock up before leaving the hospital. I lived in them for a month. The Depend brand was comfortable.

Car mirror: Necessary so you can see the baby while driving.

Baby cotton pads: In the beginning, their bottoms are very sensitive, so I used to put cotton pads in a glass container and pour hot water over them. Once the water cooled down, we’d squeeze out the excess water and wipe their bottoms with those pads. Since my daughter’s genital area is especially sensitive, I’m still wiping her with these cotton pads at 14 months.

THE DEPENDS ON THE SITUATION’S:

Co-sleeper bassinet: Actually, I could have put this under the must-buys, because even if you put them to sleep in their own room, it’s good to have one for the living room etc. But if you’re going to have them sleep in their own room from day one, do you really need it? Maybe not. So it stayed in this category.

Air purifier: If it fits your budget, and if you live in a city or a house with humidity issues, I highly recommend one with a humidifier feature.

Baby bathtub: Now, a lot of people will say, "What do you mean? Of course this is a must-buy," but it wasn’t for me. I bought one for my first baby and used it exactly once. Until they outgrew it and started spinning, I just put a towel over the sink and washed them right there. This is really about whatever makes you comfortable. I always felt anxious using a tub when they were tiny. Yes, I tried the bath hammocks too; still, the sink always felt the best and most convenient to me. So, I’d say this one is up to the mom.

Sterilizer: If you use pacifiers and bottles, absolutely get one. I used both the Philips Avent and the Mamajoo ones. My tip: definitely get one with a drying feature.

Hands-free pump: I’m putting this here because not every breastfeeding mom is going to pump. But if you want a little freedom, I highly recommend a pump. Thanks to the milk in the fridge, someone else can feed the baby, which frees up some time for you; during the period when you are nursing every 2-3 hours, this is a small but massive luxury. I always used the Medela hands-free pump and was very happy with it. Thanks to those cups you slip inside your bra, you can just pop them in and go about your day; though to be honest, if I remember correctly, they didn't suction quite as well as the regular flanges. So if it fits your budget, I'd say buy both types of attachments.

Babybjörn or any baby bouncer: I am ready to die on the hill of the Babybjörn bouncer, I loved it that much. A friend bought me the 4Moms automatic bouncer, but neither of my kids liked it at all. So, it really comes down to preference maybe?

Rotating ISOFIX base for the car seat: If budget allows, I think an ISOFIX base makes life so much easier. Is it a must, definetly not.

Playgym: You start tummy time from 1 month old, so a playgym to put them on is nice to have. Would spreading a muslin cloth and placing high-contrast cards on it work just as well? Yes. But I was very happy with the Lovevery and Fisher-Price playgyms; they kept my babies nicely entertained.

White noise machine: It might not be everyone’s preference, but I always used one.

Silverette nursing cups: If you are breastfeeding, absolutely buy these; your nipples will hurt.

TRY FIRST, BUY LATER:

Pacifiers: Every child is different; mine were Avent fans, for example, but another baby might like a different brand. I always bought 4 different brands to try out before commiting

.

Baby bottles: Same logic as the pacifier. I could write a 10-page thesis on this topic as a mother who had a baby with reflux and gas.

Diapers: Some brands can cause diaper rash on certain babies. Try them out before buying in bulk.

THE USELESS ONES:

Bottle warmer: You can just place it in a bowl filled with some hot water.

Baby mittens: Put socks on their hands instead, it's much better. Those mittens always fall off anyway.

Newborn clothes that aren’t onesies or rompers: They will either go to waste or sit there unworn forever as a "KEEPSAKE."

Special baby laundry detergent: Any fragrance-free, anti-allergenic detergent will do the job. We love Greenclean.

Baby food makers for when you start solids: A blender does the exact same job.

Breathing monitors: Don't buy them unless you want unnecessary anxiety.

Diaper bag: Any large bag will do the job. I use a Lululemon backpack. Buy pouches instead.

Baby towel: When they were newborns, I always reached for soft muslins. But both of mine were spring babies, so I don't know if there might be a need for a towel in the winter.

Newborn hat: The hospital nurses were very insistent on using them after baths, but I didn't. Again, mine were spring babies

That’s everything off the top of my head! If you have any questions, I’d be happy to answer them

I thought she was being cruel, but she was just telling the truth.

I’m sick, tired, and all I wanted for my birthday was to rest. But no, I have duties.

First, I am a mother — I take my son to school.

Next, I am a daughter and I take my mom to the Turkish bath that I had promised for Mother’s Day.

Then I’m mom again: I take my daughter to the doctor for her cough. I drop her home, and suddenly it’s time to pick my son up from school.

By the time I come home I’m exhausted. As I mentioned, I’m sick and tired. But I still have duties to my husband. He wants to celebrate my birthday.

Around all of my duties I hadn’t had time to eat. It was 4 o’clock and my body was barely holding on to the banana I’d had at 9 in the morning. Did I mention I was sick?

I call my husband. “I’m exhausted, can we cancel dinner?” He says sure. I can hear he’s in the car. “Are you coming home?” I ask. He says, “Not yet, still have things to do.” I know then and there he’s out doing things at last minute. “I’m gonna get into bed — if you really want to give me a gift today, help with the kids.” I say. He says ok.

I order food and get into bed. The kids come home from the park. My mom comes and says, “Go rest, I’ll take care of the kids.” I get back into bed.

My son comes blasting through — “Mommy, mommy, I want this.” I get up and give him what he wants. I get back into bed. My daughter cries. I get up to check on her. Then i get back into bed again. The doorbell rings. It’s my food. I get up again, and whilst I’m eating, my husband comes. It’s 6 o’clock now. In my mind he should’ve been here an hour ago. I’m annoyed. I have been begging to rest for hours now.

And no rest was seen in sight.

Then my son comes. “Mommy, mommy, what are you eating?” He wants my food.

Then my husband says: “You ate without me.”

And the first thing I think: It’s my birthday.

“I’m too tired for all this, can I go to bed?”

I’m asking for permission.

I go to bed.

He comes in, he’s sad i ate without him. I’m getting annoyed now.

He has our daughter in one hand, our son at the other. “I got cake, come let’s have cake.”

I don’t want cake. I have been begging to rest for hours now. I have no energy.

“Please, I want to rest.”

He’s disappointed.

But it’s my birthday — what about what I want?

“I want to rest, please.”

Nope. Now comes the kids card. “The kids want to celebrate your birthday…”

I burst out of bed. “Leave me alone — I WANT TO REST.” I’m screaming now.

I feel unheard. I am mad.

I hate that the kids are there.

He says it’s just one candle.

For me it’s not. For me it’s about being able to take a time out on my birthday. For me it’s about the one day I can say, “Hey, can I rest?”

I scream again. Begging but angrily. “PLEASE. LEAVE ME ALONE.”

I hate that the kids are there.

They leave me alone. But now I feel like shit. Guilt is all over me, consuming my rest.

I can’t rest. My mind is killing me.

I go talk to the kids. I say I’m sorry. I get down to their level and I try to explain — mom isn’t mad at them, mom just needed a minute, mom is human too.

Not knowing if they even understand what I mean. But I try anyway.

The kids go to bed.

My husband comes, we argue a bit. Again, no rest, no me-time for Manolya.

Just as that ends, my son wakes up and wants me, of course. I go calm him down.

Then it’s finally me-time. I get into bed.  But It’s 23:00.

I can sleep, yes. But I can’t rest. I can’t take time for myself to reset, to regulate. Rest is not my friend anymore.

After today I can see clearly now — when I put myself first, things get messy.

Rest is for other people.

Mothers can get sleep. But mothers don’t get rest.

“You keep saying it’s so hard and that you’re tired, overstimulated, and annoyed, but then you add ‘but it’s the best feeling ever.’”

That got me thinking. I keep seeing content about this topic, but it’s always framed as if we parents are trying to con non-parents into becoming parents by tacking on “it’s the best feeling ever.”

But that’s not true. I find that being a parent means living in that constant conundrum. That is the feeling of being a parent. Because my friend is right — even I’m confused.

And maybe that’s the part no one talks about. That the confusion isn’t a phase you grow out of, or a problem to solve. It’s the whole shape of it.

And that’s maybe why this feeling is so hard to describe.

Like, how do I describe to someone who isn’t a mother that I yearn for them to go to sleep so I can have a tiny bit of me-time, and then the minute they fall asleep I miss them and find myself scrolling through their photos?

Or that being a mother comes so easily to me, but it’s still the hardest thing I’ve ever done? Easily, because something in me just knows. I know their cries, I know their tells, I know their needs. It’s instinct and it’s love. But hard, because knowing doesn’t make you less tired. Knowing doesn’t give you back your time or yourself.

Or that I’m energetic and tired at the same time. That I haven’t slept a quality sleep in three years, but I’m up every morning giving breakfast, taking them to school, and doing a whole day of the same things. Willingly, lovingly, sometimes boringly.

Being a mother is the biggest joy of my life, but you can’t expect someone to love the moment your toddler is crying on the floor, kicking and screaming bloody murder in public, just because I didn’t say “hakuna matata” at the same friggin’ time as him and Timon.

The ease and the hardness aren’t opposites. They live in the same room. Rent free.

Sounds totally crazy, I know, but it’s the truth.

I sometimes think part of it comes from motherhood being put on a pedestal. Often motherhood is described as “holy.” And you can’t talk ill about something holy, can you? But I don’t think motherhood is holy. I think it’s the purest form of human. It’s guts, it’s gritty, it’s love, it’s ache. Calling it holy actually does mothers a disservice. It flattens it. It turns mothers into saints, and saints don’t get to be tired, or annoyed, or bored, or sometimes desperate to be alone in a room. Holy doesn’t have room for the truth of it. Human does.

So if asked again, I’d say this: I’m not adding “but it’s the best feeling ever” to soften the hard parts. I’m saying it because both are true at once, and that’s the whole thing. That’s motherhood. No saints. Just humans, at full volume.

The day my daughter was born, she farted on me. Literally — she came out of me farting. The nurse who handed her to me while she was farting was in shock. “I’ve never heard of a one-day-old farting,” she said.

That right there should’ve been my first clue that the next few months were going to be part hellish. But no — I laughed, because farts are funny.

I assure you, that was the last time I laughed at a fart. From that moment on, farts were not funny. They were traumatic.

I get A LOT of questions about the reflux/gas/colic Bermuda Triangle we went through with my daughter as a newborn, so I’m finally writing it all down. She’s one now, and we’ve been smooth sailing since she was 6 months old. (Wanted to start with something hopeful.)

I’ll go month by month so any mom reading this can skip to whatever month her baby is in if they want.

Month 1: For the first month, there wasn’t much we could do — tummy massages, bicycling her legs to help her fart, a warm (not hot) cherry seed belt or warm water bottle on her tummy. I remember telling myself this was just newborn stuff and that it would pass, like it did with my first. Little did I know.

Month 2: Our doctor said we could start Mylicon. We added a couple of drops to her pacifier during sleeps, but it still wasn’t getting better. This was also the month her colicky cries started, and the month she decided she hated milk. She would arch back every feed. My supply plummeted. I started to suspect this wasn’t normal newborn fussiness anymore — something was actually wrong. But the doctors kept telling me it was just newborn gas.

Month 3: This is when we hit peak gas and colicky crying. Our doctor recommended a cream for her tummy, which — looking back — I think was the only thing that gave her a sliver of relief.

Every day from 4–6:30, I had her in her carrier trying to calm her down. Then we’d do bath time, and after bath time she always took a turn for the worse. She would scream bloody murder until she fell asleep. She fought with my breast, fought with the bottle, fought with anything trying to feed her like it was her worst enemy.

Feeding her at night became the hardest thing ever. We tried the Pilates ball, swings, carriers, every damn position you can think of. She screamed every time we fed her. I could see she was in pain.

So I asked the doctor if she could have reflux. He said no, because she wasn’t puking.

Month 4: We were trying everything. Mylicon, warm treatment, gripe water, special formula for gas, special formula for reflux, feeding her in any way she’d accept, creams, massages. I was so desperate I even called my biodynamic craniosacral therapist.

At the end of the month, I called our doctor crying. I told him to point me in a direction because I was losing it. I hated seeing my baby so unhappy and in pain all the time. It was torture for both of us. He told me to go see a gastroenterologist.

So at 4.5 months, I took her to a gastroenterologist. I told her everything we’d gone through. They did an allergy test, and then she said it: silent reflux.

Finally, I had an answer. Not knowing what was wrong had been the thing slowly breaking me.

The doctor put her on a medication and told us to start solids. We did both immediately.

I want to pause here, because this is important. Reflux doesn’t always come with spit-up. Silent reflux — which is what my daughter had — means the acid comes up but doesn’t come out. The baby just swallows it back down, in pain, and there’s nothing visible to point to. It’s harder to detect, but just as common as regular reflux.

Month 5: This was the first month I sighed a sigh of relief. Things didn’t get better instantly, but there was hope — and after months of feeling hopeless, that little piece of hope gave me LIFE.

We started solids very early, and that did have a positive effect on her gas and reflux. The medication was helping too. She started crying less. Eating more.

She still hated milk. Hell, she’s one now and still hates it :) But she could tolerate more of it.

And by month 6, we were free. She even started sleeping better. (I also sleep trained — but not the leave-her-crying way — that’s a topic for another day.)

She’s one now. (Drinking game idea: drink every time I say she’s one.) She’s such a happy girl. I remember crying like crazy the first time I saw her smile. The baby who screamed through every feeding feels like a different child — and I feel like a totally different mom.

If you’re in the thick of it right now: trust your gut. If you think something’s wrong, something probably is. The answer is out there.

And don’t worry — the farts do eventually become funny again.

Always here if and when you have questions.

Love,

Manolya

• One night stay at a nice hotel

• Emma bridgewater everything

• Miu miu crochet bag

• More eberjey pijamas

• Suzanne kalan anything

• a nice photoshoot with my bebes

• Maude & may placemats

• These crochet wine bags

• Toni darling frank salt & pepper set

• To go to bodrum

I know in my first article I said I felt like I had a purpose for the first time in my life when I became a mother, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel a whole lot of "lost" too.

Yes, I loved (and still love) being a mother, but I struggled hard during the newborn stage. Sometimes, when I expressed the feelings I’m about to write here, I was deemed ungrateful—as if motherhood is an untouchable subject and I’m not allowed to speak ill of it. But motherhood is so many things all at once. How can it not be? It cracks you open. It’s magical and super hard.

You are grieving and being reborn at the same time.

That first time you become a mother is a crazy and beautiful period. You’re the happiest, saddest, cleanest, dirtiest wreck of a whole new person... all at the same damn time. You want to bottle that feeling up forever while simultaneously being on your knees begging for it to be over.

At least, that was me. For both my babies, the first six months were tough.

My first, my son, was a super chill baby. But the experience of becoming a new mother was what got to me. The anxiety of being the sole source of everything for a tiny, vulnerable human was overwhelming.

By the time my daughter was born, I thought I had it all figured out. I felt like a "pro" now; I knew everything was temporary, so I assumed postpartum couldn't touch me. WRONG. Life was like, “Yeah, no sweetie...” My daughter had colic and was super gassy; she cried from 4:00 to 7:00 PM for five months straight. That left me sleepless, drained, overstimulated, and super angry. And you don’t have much time for self-pity—or even anger—when you have an older child who needs his mom 24/7, too.

The nights were always the toughest for me. Waking up in the middle of the night when the whole world is quiet and sleeping is a lonely feeling. I remember when my son was a month old, I was breastfeeding him at 2:00 AM and I stumbled upon this photo on Instagram.

I started crying like crazy. I remember wailing so hard that my tears fell on my son and woke him up. Now, anytime I see a new mom struggling, I send them this picture. I tell them to find moms who have babies the same age. They might not realize it, but those little texts or reels from my friends in the middle of the night—while the pump was sucking the life (sorry, milk) out of my nipples—saved my life. Truly.

Now, let's talk breastfeeding. This might be a trigger for some because I unfortunately didn’t have that "magical" breastfeeding experience most moms seem to have. For me, it was painful. I had sores, I had mastitis four times, and to top it all off, I had something called D-MER (Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex). It’s important to know this isn't just "baby blues" or an emotional struggle—it is a physiological reaction where a sudden drop in dopamine happens right as your milk releases. Every time my milk let down, I was hit with waves of intense sadness. For those 30 seconds, life felt dark. It was scary, especially when I didn’t know what it was.

So no, it wasn't magical; it was grueling.

With my son, I tried for months until my doctor finally decided I should quit for my own mental health. With my daughter, I started with a positive, "fresh page" mindset, but my body said, “Nope, not doing this again.” I had a super low supply, and within two months, my milk dumped me. And frankly, I was happy, because I could switch to formula guilt-free. And don’t forget ladies: Fed is best.

The truth is, the first six months with your first and the first six months with your second are two totally different worlds. With my first, I was so excited for tummy time and the BabyBjörn, the high-contrast cards, and the playmats. The second time around? That stuff was boring as hell. When you have a walking, talking toddler beside you, the stage where a baby just lies there is pretty dull. I kept staring at my daughter, waiting for her to do something interesting! I struggled with that guilt, too.

But the guilt of not feeling like "enough," or not being able to give the exact same experience to both your babies, is a topic for a whole other article.

Lastly, I want to share a list of things that saved me during the newborn stage:

1. Mom friends to share stupid reels with in the middle of the night.

2. A good therapist.

3. My mom to cry to.

4. Noise-canceling earphones, a baby carrier, and a glass of vino for the colicky hour. (Do not judge, this is a safe place...)

5. A quick 10-minute walk outside on my own.

What has your newborn stage been like? If you’re in the thick of it right now, how are you feeling? Wanna talk? Need a 2:00 AM reel session? Let me know in the comments.

I’m Manolya. I’m half Swiss on my mother’s side and half Turkish on my baba’s side. But if I had a gun to my head, I’d say I’m Turkish — because I was born and raised in Istanbul. I’m married and I’m a mom of two. But as much as this is about motherhood, it also has nothing to do with motherhood. Motherhood is actually the only place I don’t feel lost. And I don’t mean that in a “I’m a perfect mom” way — I am far from perfect. You won’t get that kind of mothering here. I mean it as in: I was lost my whole life, trying to find a purpose, and motherhood was the only thing that gave me a sliver of that feeling. But let me explain.

I was never academically ambitious.

I was a mediocre student. I never really thought about what I wanted to do with my life, and in my last year of high school, the thought of leaving my family was so tough on me that I became anorexic. So I stayed — in my safe zone — and picked a major (events management) without really thinking it would have to be my career forever. After university, I tried thousands of different jobs. A concert venue, a band, a fashion PR company, a social media agency. And because I was unambitious and, honestly, a little spoiled, I quickly discovered I was not meant to work for other people. So for a long time, I didn’t. Thinking back now, my parents were too supportive of me — maybe that could’ve been a teaching moment for me. And yes i do know how that sounds.

So then a couple of years later, that self-discovery pushed me to do my own thing. I started a curated fashion e-commerce site. And of course, with no professional background and zero self-confidence, I closed it down a year later.

Then came my social media era.

Around 2018, my dad got sick. A year later, we lost him. His death pushed me toward a more spiritual place, and finally, at 28, I started to grow up. That meant confronting my decade-old eating disorder — and stumbling upon something called intuitive eating. After years of struggling with food and then finally feeling free, I needed to share it. So I started writing about my experiences on Instagram. Food freedom, anxiety, all my feelings. My account grew almost instantly. But as you can probably tell by now — I am a mind-changer.

Then I got pregnant.

After having my son, I decided I didn’t want to keep talking about my eating disorder. It wasn’t who I was anymore, and there were more and more professionals covering those topics — better to leave it to them. But a couple of months into new motherhood, I started feeling lost again. Sleepless, hopeless, passionless. So I turned to the one thing that had pulled me out of a slump before — when my dad was sick — cooking. I started cooking, sharing it on Instagram, talking about my thoughts, my problems, whatever was on my mind. My account grew.

But then I got pregnant again.

And giving birth to my daughter changed something in me forever. Yes, i wanted to be the mother my children deserved — to always be there for them. But I also wanted them to have a mother they could look up to. One who accomplished things. One who had a life beyond just being a mother. Because even though I know they need me with everything they have right now, one day they’ll need me to set them free. And when that day comes, I want them to see an independent woman. A mom they can come back to always — but an independent woman also.

So I thought: if motherhood is the only thing I feel confident talking about, why not start there? And just like that, here I am — a little lost and trying to find my thing beyond being a mom.

I don’t know who will read this. But if you feel lost and stumble upon it — come join me. I’ll be sharing my journey here. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I guess I have to figure it out now :)

Love,

Manolya.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​