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I was going to write a piece about the milestones you celebrate in the NICU (that piece will come soon), but the piece that’s on my spirit has nothing to do with the NICU and everything to do with how hard it is to be a human being in 2026 (to put it mildly).

Allow me to elaborate…

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you know that the vibes are not “vibing” currently. There’s a new recall every day/week, data centers are popping up all over the place, the price of groceries and utilities continue to increase, buying a house continues to feel like a nice dream to have and not a reality to obtain. It’s a lot.

Being a mother to a young child adds a whole additional layer to the mix because now I am sitting here wondering how I am going to raise a young, black girl in a world like this. I mean this was something I was already sitting with, but the way things are moving has me even more concerned. How do I keep her safe? How do I make sure she knows how to rely on her brain to think and not AI? How do I make sure the food she eats is safe? How do I help her thrive emotionally? How? How? How?

That’s not to mention the concerns I have for myself. How do I stay healthy and mentally well? How do I find work that pays the bills, but does not suck my soul out of my body? How do I find time to be creative? How do I maintain my relationships? How do I make time to clean my house and make dinner? How do I find ways to make the world a better place? Even if it’s just in a small way. How? How? How?

I feel stretched thin. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. Financially. Socially.

And yet…

I still get up everyday. Put a smile on my face for my daughter. Remain pleasant, kind, and thoughtful, or at the very least neutral, as I interact with others. Show up to a job that I am less than enthused to be at (again, to put it mildly) and perform my duties. Come home, make dinner, do bedtime, etc. etc. etc. Rinse and repeat the next day.

This is the story for many of us. It is a privileged story as well. I have a home that is safe, food in my fridge, clothes in my closets, money in my bank account, and health insurance should I need to use it. These are basic things that many, many people do not have.

And yet…

I feel like I am drowning some days. The effort it takes to keep going feels like a lot some days. It feels like I can’t catch up and get things back on track. I have felt this way at different points in my life, but becoming a mother has colored the experience in a whole new way. You do not feel like you get a chance to have an existential crisis. Or if you do it has to be in the closet, for two minutes, before you need to put a snack together.

You also can’t make decisions just for yourself anymore. I would leave my job and see if I could find a more creative and fulfilling way to pay my bills if I didn’t have to worry about making sure my daughter has what she needs to be safe, healthy, and well. I would rot on the couch for a day if I didn’t have to keep a little human being from jumping, headfirst, onto the floor. The weight of the responsibility of being a parent is not one that I fully understood until I got here.

Again, I know I am not alone in this. I just feel like so much of what I see when I scroll, or when I am out and about, are people who look like they have it together. I’m sure I also look like I have it together, but on the inside it’s messy. I have no doubt that there are other people and mothers who feel all of this too.

I know that this feeling is likely to pass. It always does. I find a way to re-engage with things that bring some light to my life. I find a way to talk about what I’m feeling to others who get it. Or circumstances change to allow for more lightness to enter. In this moment, when it feels a little stormy, it feels good to write it, and share it, for any other person or mother who feels the same.

All that to say… we keep going. One foot in front of the other. One day at a time.

In today’s episode we are talking about:

• How motherhood made me even more aware of the systems around us

• How work, childcare, the healthcare system, and the dangers of pregnancy and childbirth impact our motherhood experience

• A gentle reminder for those of us who are way to hard on ourselves and forget that we live in a messy world

I’ll be back with a bonus episode before the end of the month answering a question about my birth trauma. In true me fashion I talked too much and ran out of time.

Let me know what you think in the comments and thanks for listening!

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The first time I entered the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) I was so nervous. Prior to my experience with the end of my pregnancy (a week long hospital stay and early deliver of my baby at 29 weeks) I had very little interaction with hospitals. To be entering a very serious space, it is an intensive care unit after all, to see my first born child was something I don’t think I could wrap my head around. I still can’t believe that this was part of our story.

My husband had been able to come and go after our daughter was first born because I was stuck in bed recovering from surgery. He really was the one to educate me on the protocols of the NICU.

How to request entry into the unit. Press the button, share her name and ID number from your bracelet, and your relation to her.

Wash your hands. Pretty much do what they do on TV before scrubbing into surgery.

Find your baby’s space. Our NICU did not have many private rooms so she was in a big room with other isolettes around her. One baby on…

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I wish I could say I remember the first couple of days after my daughter was born.

I wish I could say that what I do remember was exactly what I pictured and reflected the countless social media posts I’d seen of other Moms who just gave birth.

What I can remember had very few similarities to the picture I had in my head. Basically just the tired expression and sitting in a hospital bed.

For me, there was no baby bedside. She was whisked to the NICU as soon as they pulled her out of me. I remember seeing her for a few moments and then her and my husband left to a place I couldn’t follow. I wish I could say that I remember all the details from when they rolled my bed up to the NICU before I settled into my room on the post-delivery unit (formally called Mother Baby Unit) but that is a hazy memory.

There also wasn’t a cute post delivery hospital gown that I’d brought from home. I didn’t have time to even think about purchasing one. And what would have been t…

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Here’s what I covered in this first episode:

• What to expect from this show

• Who I am personally and professionally

• A preview of topics to come

Drop me questions and topics you want me to cover in the coming weeks. Thanks for watching and I can’t wait to share more!

Three years later and it stills feels hard to think about the day my daughter was born. I am still struggling to celebrate this day. To celebrate her birthday.

It’s hard to have the anniversary of your birth trauma be the same day as the birth of your child.

You want to celebrate their arrival into the world and them making it to another year.

You want to celebrate all the ways they have grown over the last year.

You want to shower them with love and make sure they know how much their presence in your life means to you.

And….

It’s hard. You are reminded of the fear you felt when you were told they would have to be delivered at 29 weeks and 1 day.

You are reminded of the uncertainty you felt about whether they would be okay.

You are reminded of how scared you were to be preparing for a surgery where you would be awake the whole time.

You are reminded of seeing them for a few minutes, bundled up in a blanket …

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“Today starts the third trimester and I can’t believe we have made it to this point. I still feel nervous about the ways this could go wrong and I am excited to be closer to meeting our little girl”

That’s an excerpt from a journal entry on July 27, 2023. I was getting ready to go to the Maternal Fetal Medicine office to have an ultrasound and see a 3-D image of my baby. I was so excited to see this picture of her, especially since we hadn’t had an ultrasound in a while.

I was finally starting to feel more grounded in my pregnancy and gearing up for the home stretch. We had just built the crib and the dresser because I didn’t want to have to think about doing that when I was bigger and more tired. I was looking forward to my baby shower and celebrating this little being that was growing inside me with family and friends. I was trying to mentally prepare for what it would be like to go into labor and deliver a …

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I can’t remember all of what it felt like in those early postpartum days. The trauma of a hospital stay, premature birth, and 2.5 month NICU stay really colors the experience in a unique way. Add in the expected fourth trimester fog, hormonal fluctuations, sleep deprivation, and complete identity shift and of course it’s hazy.

I do remember feeling so lost when my daughter came home. I had just spent all this time in a place where professionals kept my baby alive. They were responsible for all her care and knew what to do. When they told us we could bring her home I was excited and scared.

I was scared for a number of reasons, again birth trauma, but what I’m gonna focus on here is what I believe to be the “normal” fear any mother would feel brining a baby home (be on the look out for the birth trauma/NICU perspective soon!).

No one tells you how to care for a baby. Or they do but there is no substitute for first hand experience. You have the baby shower (…

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Let me start by saying that I LOVE my daughter. I think she is amazing and I am so glad that I have the privilege of knowing her. She is energetic, funny, curious, observant, strong, and sweet (when she wants to be). She’s the best!

However….I don’t like being a mother. It’s been a weird realization to arrive at after 2.5 years of being a mom.

Growing up I thought I would love being a mother and that I would get so much joy from having kids. I think this is because the image we get of motherhood often leaves out the scary, sad, challenging, grief-y parts of mothering (this is starting to change a bit!).

We are told that getting pregnant is easy, being pregnant is great, birthing is hard but beautiful, and being a mother, while also hard, is rewarding and gives meaning. If you say anything to the contrary you are seen as being negative and trying to scare people.

Now for some people the journey to becoming a mother is wonderful and all the good vibes are attached to motherhood. To those mothers I say, “I am so glad that is your experience (genuinely) AND this post is not for you.”

I’ll give you a little backstory so that you understand where I am coming from. My husband and I did four rounds of Intrauterine Insemination (IUI) which resulted in twins (the fact that IUI does not get as much attention as IVF is a convo for another time)! This was unexpected and short lived since we lost our daughter’s twin in the first trimester. You can imagine how stressful the rest of my, also short lived, pregnancy was as a result. My daughter, Rylee, arrived early at 29 weeks an 1 day weighing just 2lbs. She spent 66 days in the NICU.

Our/my entry into parenthood was… a lot.

Parenting while recovering from birth trauma is a complicated thing. It has taken me a long time to stop reliving the days leading up to, and including, Rylee’s birth and NICU stay. Worrying about every little thing related to her and her care. I still have moments of grief around all of it, but a little less these days. With all that being said, I know this experience colors my experience as a mother. I know. I also know that I’m in the thick of it with a toddler. I know.

However, I don’t think my birth trauma, and having a toddler, are the (only) reasons why I don’t like being a mother. Being a mother, to put it bluntly, is a job. It is a full-time job. One you don’t get paid for, don’t get time off from, and often, very little recognition for. I am a mother who has many privileges. My husband is present and supportive. We both are employed. We are financially stable. We have supportive family and friends. AND it’s still so very hard to be a mother.

I did not think I would ever utter the words “I don’t like being a mother”. In fact, it feels like that means I am doing it wrong. That I’m not grateful enough. But damn, the facts are the facts. Being a mom is not what I expected. I am the social calendar, the keeper of doctor’s appointments, the knower of schedules (eating, sleeping, etc.), the less preferred parent (of course the person who grew the child and literally fed it from her body would be), and the one with all the open tabs of what could come up and a subsequent solution.

This is no shade to my husband. As I said, he is present and supportive. He’s at every doctor’s appointment, knows the routines, gives her all the love and attention she needs, makes space for me to take a break when needed. AND it’s still so hard to be a mother.

I think a large part is that we don’t live in a country that actually supports families and mothers. The systems make it harder to be present, rested, connected, informed, and joyful (this is also a conversation for another time). We are expected to smile and not complain because bringing life into the world is a miracle and we should be grateful that we got to do it. We are reminded that because we were “meant” to bear children it should be natural and easy. Moms are expected to look put together, know all the things, talk about how obsessed they are with their children above all else, and that’s it. We get judged if we deviate in any way from this path which means a lot of us suffer in silence and feel guilty as a result.

I am done with that. I am tired, overwhelmed, sad, angry, confused, and longing for a time before I became a Mom. I feel suffocated at times by this job and I want to run away screaming often. I also love my daughter and want to know her and be with her without the responsibility of being her mother hanging over my head. I want to play with her without thinking about lunch time and nap time and the next appointment and what we are going to do to keep her engaged and making sure she is progressing in all areas of her life.

It’s so hard to be a mother. I would not give up Rylee to be rid of this job. AND I will not be part of the one-sided story that gets told about motherhood.

To all the other moms out there who this resonates with: You are not alone. You are amazing. You are doing a great job. One day at a time.

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If you know me personally you probably know that I love a time travel story. I love thinking about the multiverse and the possibility that there are millions of versions of ourselves, and different timelines, where we get to live out all our dreams. To me, there is something comforting and freeing about this perspective.

Whenever I’m wondering how my present might be different based on a past decision being different I just say to myself, “some version of me, on another time line, is living that version of my life”. For example, what if I stuck with Fashion Merchandising as a major in college? Maybe I’d be a stylist for a celebrity. What if I had a kid in my early 20s verses my late 30s? They’d be almost teenagers by now! How would that have shaped my career? My perspective on life? Again, “some version of me, on another time line, is living that version of my life.” I wish I could peek into her world.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have any regrets about my …

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I delivered the eulogy at my mother’s funeral. What I wrote for that moment was something I had written months before she actually died. It came to me in the middle of the night, as most of my writings do, since I knew that at some point in the near future those words would be needed. After she died, and I committed to speaking, I began to add more to what I had already written and that process was difficult, but enlightening.

I started to think more deeply about not only who my mother was to me, but who she was to other people. Not only how she made me feel, but how she made others feel. What were the common refrains I heard people mention when they talked about my mother and did that align with who I knew her to be? I wound up writing four pages, single spaced. I know that sounds like a lot, but is four pages, single spaced enough to capture someone’s life? No. But you do what you gotta do to only speak for 7- 10 minutes.

What I wound up talking about was ho…

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I have been dragging my feet, or in this case my fingers, in terms of writing something for this space because I don’t know what I am doing anymore. When I started this page I had the intention of sharing insights about authenticity. Trying to create a community of people who are also wanting to explore what it means to be authentic in this wild world. Feeling energized by the idea of launching something new.

Then my mom died.

Her death really has knocked the wind out of my sails. Pulled the rug out from under me. Turned my world upside down. *Insert any other analogy about navigating the unexpected here* It has left me feeling like I don’t know how to do much of anything these days. Writing from that place feels weird and scary. It feels like I should not be here telling you that I don’t know what this page is anymore because then how will you take me seriously??

I was talking to a friend today about this space and they reminded me that it’s okay to wr…

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Let’s go back to the beginning…

When I think about being my authentic self the first image that comes to mind is myself as a little girl, maybe 10 or 11 years old, singing and dancing in my room. When I was younger I used to love pretending that I was a singer and that I was performing for a crowd. I would choreograph a dance to my favorite songs and have a great time by myself.

I also think about how much I loved to talk. One of my nicknames growing up was Mini Mouth because I guess I never stopped talking. That little girl was so full of life and just ready to take on the world. I often wonder at what point did she become unsure of herself? What happened that made her shrink?

This is a question I find myself pondering not just about myself, but about other people. In my work as a psychologist I’m often sitting with people who are trying to figure out who they are, what they want to do in life, and who they want to be. What we always wind up talking about are the messages and experiences that they’ve had that have disconnected them from their authentic selves. The important people in their lives that told them that who they are is not who they should be. The systems in place that have culled their confidence, creativity, curiosity, etc. The experiences that have given them feedback about what is a “right” way to be and a “wrong” way to be.

We may not abandon ourselves intentionally, but it happens nonetheless. We do it to fit in with our peers, with society, and/or with our family. As social creatures, one of our biggest fears is being on the outs with the group. We all get the blueprint of what it means to be [insert any identity] and we do our best to fit into the box even if it doesn’t feel good. Even as it pushes us further away from that little voice deep down in our gut that tries so hard to keep us connected to who we truly are.

The question I hope we all can ask ourselves is, “Who is benefiting from us no longer marching to the beat of our own drum?”

Before we go further, you might be wondering what I mean by “authentic self”? When I talk about authentic self I am referring to the person you are when no one is around. When you do not have to worry about how others will perceive you, or if you are doing the things that will please your mother, father, sister, brother, aunt, uncle, etc. The intuitive voice that tells you when you are making a choice or engaging in an action that feels good and makes you happy. That person may not be the entirety of our authentic selves, but I do think that the answers that lie in these moments clue us into what we know to be true about ourselves and how we want to exist in this world.

I don’t pretend to know the answers to life’s biggest questions. I don’t even pretend to know the best way for us to stay connected to our authentic selves. I do know what my experience has been and have talked to a number of people about their own journeys. The theme that emerges is that we spend so much time being told to disconnect from our true selves and then at some point find that that does not serve us. We then have to work even harder to reconnect with ourselves as we get older. My hope is that we can start having the difficult and meaningful conversations that get us closer to who we were always meant to be.

Let’s get a conversation going in the comments! What does being your authentic self mean to you?

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If you’ve read my previous posts you know that things are pretty heavy over here. In one of those posts I talked about keeping the light/fire alive in times of darkness so you can keep going. Here’s some of the things that help me do just that:

1. Read📖 I love reading and have ever since I was a kid. I just finished Lucy Foley’s the Midnight Feast and would highly recommend. Looking for my next book as we speak!

2. Watch Bob’s Burgers🍔 If you know me then you know that the Belcher family serves as the equivalent of my comfort blanket. When I need a laugh and/or my brain needs a hug I turn to Bob, Linda, Tina, Gene, and Louise.

3. Zumba💃🏽 Over the past year I have become a big Zumba fan. I love dancing and Zumba gives me a chance to pretend I am on a stage somewhere being a star. The community I’ve found through Zumba is also *chef’s kiss*😘 .

4. Using Marco Polo to keep in touch with the my friends ♥️ I have one friend (hey Courtney!) who I Polo with almost everyday and it has a been a lovely way to stay in touch when you can’t visit or texting isn’t enough.

5. Being present with my daughter 👧🏽 This one can be tough because I’m often tired and my phone is a big distraction. However, when I really allow myself to lock in, spending time with her is just what I need. Focusing on her laugh, her tiny voice, and letting my inner child come out to play is top tier.

6. Pulling Tarot cards 🎴I use this as a way to check-in with myself and speak to the universe, my ancestors, and/or the spirit that connects us all. I find that nine times out of ten the card that I pull resonates deeply with where I am in the moment. It gives me a boost, clarity, or reassurance which helps me put one foot in front of the other.

I know I talk about the hard stuff often. I think we need to talk about the hard stuff so that we get more comfortable with the uncomfortable. I also think it’s important that we remember that there is joy, peace, and rest that can be accessed, even if it’s just for a moment. That’s what helps fuel us to keep fighting and showing up for ourselves and our communities during these wild times.

What things are bringing you joy lately? I’ll be watching my second family, the Belchers, while I wait for your reply…

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I promise my page is not solely about grief and I’m sorry it’s the topic of the day once again. I told y’all that I would be authentic here as we go on this journey of being ourselves. As we use authenticity to resist conforming to the status quo and giving in to the “powers that be”. It just so happens that’s I’m grieving so you’ll have to bear with me.

I’ve described my grief/trauma as a swimming pool. Not the bright blue, inviting kind that you find on a hot summer day. Instead it’s cold, dark, murky. It does not look like something you want to sit next to let alone swim in.

When I think about how this pool got filled I think about it like this:

1. Childhood stuff gave me a good portion

2. Mom’s dementia diagnosis, subsequent decline, and death gave me an even bigger portion.

3. Cervical cancer diagnosis in my early 30s can claim a portion

4. Traumatic birth experience probably ties the mom stuff for total amount

5. And perhaps the largest portion can be attributed…

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I didn’t want my second long form piece to take so long to arrive and be about grief, but life doesn’t care what we want so here we are.

My mother passed away on January 22, 2026 and so here I am writing about her death, my grief, and what it means to be in the world when she isn’t.

My mother was diagnosed with dementia in 2017. My family and I have been on a slow, long, painful grief journey for a long time. I had been losing her for almost 10 years by the time she left us physically. When I got the call that she would be leaving us “imminently” (that’s the phrase they use when someone who’s in hospice has days left) the title of this post came to me.

Who I am without my mother?

It’s a question I’ve been asking myself over and over. Every time we lost some part of her it came up.

When she couldn’t hold a linear conversation with me.

Who am I without my mother?

When she didn’t seem to remember who I was.

Who am I without my mother?

When she really didn’t seem to remembe…

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I wrote this right after the election in 2024. I’m sad, but not surprised, that it applies to this day in 2026. In re-reading it I feel like it applies to what’s going on currently in the world, but also to the moments in life when we are struggling with our day to day things. I hope that in reading this you know you are not alone, it’s okay to be true to where you are in a given moment, and that it’s never to late to find a way to keep the light shining.

We are in dark times and I am looking for a road map, an anchor point, a home base to help weather the storm. To help get through. Even if it’s not dark outside, there are dark times inside too. I want this anchor for those moments as well. Despair is welcome here because it signifies that there was such strong hope. It means that you cared about something so much that to lose it caused such a strong, visceral reaction. There is a twisted beauty in that. It means that you can get back to that. From the da…

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I know we just met, but can I share a secret with you?

I have no idea what I am doing. I am in my late 30s, have several degrees, am a mother to a small child, and have to pay bills like a real adult and I feel lost in the sauce 90% of the time. The world at large is also making me question all the things. I mean, have you been outside? It’s rough.

Times such as these are when the Big Questions rattle around in my brain and I feel called to talk it out with other people who may be in the same boat. Just so we are on the same page, here are the Big Questions I’m referring to:

What are we even doing here?

1. How do I live my life in a way that honors who I truly am as unapologetically as possible?

2. How do I challenge the systems that make being me feel unsafe or impossible?

In my opinion, the answers to these questions will help set us free and bring us more joy and peace. In times like these especially it is important to get clear on who you are, what you stand for, and how you create space for others to do the same. These larger systems want us to stay in our little loops, going about our day without thinking too much. It’s how all the “isms” stay in full effect. Getting clear on what matters and who we are is an act of resistance and baby, it’s time to resist (I mean, it’s been time but you know what I mean).

Who all gon’ be there?

I invite you into this space if you are also asking yourself big questions. If you are tired of the status quo and want to give some space to think about how to be true to yourself and grow along the way. This is for the people who are ready to disrupt the loops we are in so that we can be more present in our lives. I want to be in community with people who are wanting to have deep discussions, ask big questions, laugh along the way, and find moments for joy. If that sounds like you, stick around!

* Side note * While I am a psychologist, and I will be using my training and professional experiences to inform what I write, this is not therapeutic advice. This page is meant to be reflective and supportive. I’m trying to figure all this out right along with you!

TL;DR - Let's talk about authenticity, identity, and the quiet rebellion of being yourself in a world that wants you to stay disconnected from who you are. Pull up a chair—subscribe to think, write, and resist authentically.