A few weeks ago, during a baby-and-me yoga class, we had a clinical psychologist come on and lead a discussion around motherhood and the process of becoming a mother.

At one point, she talked about how important it is to acknowledge the struggles and the disconnect we can feel. That having a baby isn’t all rainbows and butterflies and this transition can be really hard for a lot of people.

I unmuted myself to participate in the conversation.

“I don’t even know WHAT I actually feel most of the time. It seems like I’m constantly going through each day suppressing my true emotions for fear of hurting others. Sometimes, I feel really guilty speaking up about the challenges. A lot of us have friends who have been trying for years and years to have a baby. And to highlight the hard parts feels like it would be a slap in the face to someone who was trying to have a baby of their own. As if I’m somehow not grateful enough to have been blessed with this gift.” 

But then there are also moments when I don’t want to highlight the beautiful things about my baby for fear that it will offend others who aren’t there yet but want to be. So sometimes I add this layer of negativity as if to indirectly tell someone, “Don’t worry! You’re not missing out on much!” “Ugh, he smells. So much shit. Changing diapers every hour.” As if somehow me complaining about a poopy diaper is going to help them feel better about the fact that they don’t have a baby yet. (Spoiler alert: it doesn’t). 

She responded with something so simple, yet so profound.

“Keep talking to hear yourselves. It sounds like you’re wrapped up in everyone and everything else, but you have to go inward. Keep talking to hear yourselves. That’s how you know how you genuinely feel.” 

Sometimes I feel like women have taken on the load to make everyone around them feel good. To help keep the peace, to keep everything running smoothly. If the conversation isn’t stimulating and someone looks disengaged, I feel like it’s my responsibility to step up and shift the conversation. Or if somebody brings up something that may be insensitive to another person in the group, I jump in and try to change the subject so everything remains harmonious.

Take my Nani for example.

“Nani, do you want chai?” I asked her one day.

She hesitated and asked, “Is someone making chai?”

I asked again, “Do you WANT chai?” Emphasis on want.

Again she hesitated. Looking at the clock, trying to figure out if my dad would already be making a cup for himself. 

She repeated, “Is someone making it?”

I knew her answer would be ‘no’ if nobody was already making chai for themselves. There’s no room to think about what she actually wants. She has spent her whole life trying to help others and not be in the way. So focused on ensuring her husband is happy, her kids are set up for success, her family is safe and sound. The burden is on her. And I think a lifetime of that makes you forget how to hear yourself and what you want.

This isn’t my Nani’s fault.

It’s the world she was raised in. The world my parents were raised in.

And I want to shut the damn cycle down.

Because I don’t want to get to the end of my life and realize that I spent this ONE LIFE of mine letting other people’s voices and feelings bury my own.

Keep talking to hear yourselves.

I’ll be doing just that.

Feeling. Oversharing. Talking about the hard days, the highlights, and everything in between.