mamashonestjournal

When I became a mother for the first time, I quickly realized something no one can fully prepare you for… you are not meant to do this alone.

Before my daughter was born, I thought love would be enough to carry me through the sleepless nights, the recovery, and the overwhelming newness of it all. Love is powerful, but what truly carried me was community.

On both sides of our family, our daughter is surrounded by endless love and support. She is growing up in the arms of people who cherish her, protect her, and genuinely delight in caring for her. As a first time parent, that reality has been one of the greatest gifts of my life.

My labor was not simple. I had to be induced, and it was incredibly painful because my daughter was blocking urine from draining properly into my kidney, causing hydronephrosis and intense back pressure. At one point, I was on morphine just to cope with the pain. It was overwhelming and nothing like I had imagined.

During the birth of Brielle, my husband, my mom, and my younger sister were right there with me. They supported me through every contraction, every wave of pain, every emotional moment. I leaned on them in ways I never had before. Their steady presence gave me strength when I felt like I had none left.

The three days I spent in the hospital afterward were a blur of exhaustion and heavy medication. I was not only recovering from induction and intense back pain, but also healing from an episiotomy. Sitting, standing, walking, even shifting in bed felt like a challenge. I could barely get up without help. I felt weak, emotional, stitched together in every sense of the word.

In the days following her birth, my aunt and my grandma came to visit me in the hospital. They checked on me, held the baby, and made sure I was cared for. My aunt stayed overnight one of those nights to help with the baby so we could rest. On another night, my mom stayed overnight and did the same. They did not just come by for a quick visit, they stayed and carried the weight of those long hospital hours with us.

When we finally brought our daughter home, the support continued. Those first postpartum nights were some of the hardest of my life. I was healing physically from induction and an episiotomy, managing pain, adjusting to hormones crashing, grieving the very recent loss of my dad, and learning how to care for a newborn who did not believe in sleep. My mom came and slept over during those early days when we were barely functioning. When the baby would not let us rest, she stepped in so we could sleep. That kind of love is something I will never forget.

Not long after we were home, my aunt came over one morning and gently taught me how to give my daughter a newborn bath. I remember feeling nervous and unsure, afraid I might do something wrong. She guided my hands with calm confidence and reassured me every step of the way. Afterward, she made us crepes for breakfast. It was such a simple act, but in those fragile early days, it felt like warmth filling our home. That morning gave me a little more confidence and reminded me that I did not have to figure everything out alone.

Anytime I’ve needed a break or my husband and I need a date night/time alone, I’m lucky enough to have my mom and grandma more than happy to watch her.

My mother in law has supported us in such meaningful ways. She arranged for nourishing Indian postpartum meals to be delivered to us for weeks after Brielle was born. She knew how important the right foods are for proper digestion after giving birth. She offered practical tips, wisdom from experience, comforting words, and steady reassurance when I doubted myself. Knowing she cared for us so intentionally meant more than I can explain. She helped me to know I wasn’t alone in the beginning struggles of nursing. She has supported and shown unconditional love to Brielle every moment since.

When postpartum depression began to creep in and I found myself struggling emotionally as a brand new mom, my sisters showed up again. They came to visit me and sat with me in the heaviness, reminding me I was not alone.

Our family threw us a beautiful baby shower so that everything we needed was taken care of before she even arrived. My aunt generously let us borrow as many baby clothes as we needed. My cousins are incredible with children, and knowing our daughter will grow up having play dates with my cousins and with my sisters’ kids fills my heart with joy. She is surrounded by built in friendship and love.

It also means so much to me that she has my father in law, who loves her deeply. Since my own dad is no longer here, watching her receive that grandfatherly love is both comforting and healing for me. My brother in law and his girlfriend have showered her with love from the very beginning, embracing her so naturally and wholeheartedly. Both of my brothers always showing her love when she comes to Nonis house brings me so much joy.

My youngest brother came over and put together Brielles table and chairs which she uses every single day.

Motherhood has humbled me. It has stretched me. It has brought me to tears more times than I can count. But it has also shown me that strength does not mean doing everything alone. Strength can look like allowing yourself to be supported. It can look like accepting help, receiving meals, leaning on family, and admitting you are tired.

They say it takes a village to raise a child, but I now believe it also takes a village to carry a mother.

Because of our village, my daughter is thriving, and so am I.

And for that, I will always be grateful.