The Things We Don’t Talk About When We Become Parents
By Sarah Benitez-Zandi, LCSW
Becoming a parent is often described as magical, life-changing, the most joyful thing you’ll ever do. And for some, it is.
But for many—maybe most—it’s more complicated than that.
There are the parts people post about: the tiny fingers, the sleepy snuggles, the first smiles, the giggles, and the cute clothes. And then there are the parts that show up quietly, behind closed doors or the middle-of-the-night thoughts. The parts that don’t make it to the baby shower or the cute milestone posts.
The truth is: there’s so much we don’t talk about when we become parents. But we are going to talk about it here.
You Might Not Feel an Immediate Connection
You imagined that moment—baby placed on your chest, tears of joy, the world changing in an instant.
But maybe it didn’t feel that way.
Maybe you felt numb. Overwhelmed. Confused. Scared. Worried.
Maybe you were still trying to process the birth, the pain, or the fear.
Not feeling instantly connected to your baby doesn’t mean you’re a bad parent. It means you’re human. Bonding is real—but sometimes it’s slow. Sometimes it builds over time, through the rhythms of care, through exhaustion and repetition and presence. Love doesn’t have to look like a movie scene to be real. Everyone’s experience is different and yours is not less than because it doesn’t match what you envisioned it would be.
You Might Not Feel Overwhelming Joy
There’s this cultural script (especially in the USA) that says you’re supposed to feel complete after becoming a parent. That the joy of your child should somehow cancel out all other emotions, and all other struggles.
But many parents feel grief alongside the joy. Grief for your old life. For your freedom. For the version of you who felt like herself. You can love your baby and still mourn what’s changed. You can feel joy and rage and heartbreak in the same hour. You can have wanted motherhood with every fiber of your being, and when your baby arrives it can still feel like something is missing.
Parenting isn’t just a season of joy—it’s a season of intensity. And that includes every emotion, not just the ones we feel comfortable sharing. Especially not the versions of parenthood perfection we should plastered all over social media.
The Exhaustion Isn’t Just Physical
Yes, you’re tired. Physically, emotionally, spiritually tired. But it’s not just the sleep deprivation—it’s the constantness of it all. The need to be “on” even when your body is screaming for rest. The mental load of remembering everything. The worry. The guilt. The second-guessing. The never-ending advice that you did not ask for.
Even when you're surrounded by people, the responsibility can feel crushingly lonely. You can be grateful for your baby and still fantasize about disappearing into a quiet hotel room for 48 hours of uninterrupted nothing. That doesn’t make you selfish. It makes you honest, vulnerable, and human.
We Struggle With Feeling “Not Good Enough”
And not always because of what we’re doing—but because of what’s happening to us. Even though for most of us, we wanted this baby, and we chose this path.
Your milk doesn’t come in, even though you did everything “right.”
You have to return to work before you're emotionally or physically ready.
You feel distant from your partner, like you're living side-by-side instead of together.
You start to wonder, Wasn’t this supposed to feel different? Wasn’t I supposed to be better at this?
Let me say it clearly: you are not failing.
You are living through an identity shift, a physical recovery, a hormonal tidal wave, and a relentless new schedule—all at once. That would break anyone’s balance. You are doing far more than enough. Sometimes life is just about surviving for a time.
We Worry About Our Bodies (And Our Vaginas)
Nobody really prepares us for this part. The way your body feels foreign after birth and empty. The way your stomach folds, or your skin stretches, or your breasts leak. The way you wonder if sex will ever feel normal again—or if you even want to try. The way you try to gauge if you partner is still attracted to you by the way they look at you, or don’t look at you.
We don't talk about the shame that bubbles up when our clothes don't fit, or when we look in the mirror and don’t recognize ourselves. We’re told to “bounce back,” but what if we’re still trying to just be here?
Your body has done something extraordinary. And it’s okay if you don’t feel grateful right now. It’s okay if you’re grieving the loss of what once felt familiar. You can respect your body’s journey even if you don’t love it today or tomorrow, or maybe even next month.
You Deserve to Be Heard, Not Fixed
This blog isn’t here to give you a checklist of things to change. You’re already doing enough. It’s here to say:
You’re allowed to struggle, even if your baby is healthy.
You’re allowed to miss who you were.
You’re allowed to miss the life you had
You’re allowed to not feel okay, even if this was a deeply wanted baby.
You’re allowed to want to hide from the world
You’re allowed to need support, even if you don’t know exactly what for.
There is space for your whole story—not just the shiny parts. You don’t have to carry the invisible weight in silence. Please seek support no matter what that looks like. It could be a close friend, a family member, a support group, a therapist, an OBGYN, your partner, truthfully it does not matter who you turn to as long as they are someone who can hold space for you without judgement.
If you’re in that tender, foggy space of early parenthood and need someone to talk to—we are here. Therapy can offer space to grieve, reconnect, and feel like yourself again (even if “yourself” looks different now).
📧 referrals.mmhc@gmail.com
🌐 www.traumawisehealing.com