“Get you a friend who will drop everything and just show up for you.
Being a new mom is HARD. You second guess every single decision. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t cry all the time—not because I’m sad, but because I’m sleep-deprived, overwhelmed, and riding the wild rollercoaster of postpartum emotions.
It’s a LOT.
I struggle with severe anxiety and OCD, and asking for help doesn’t come easily to me. I’m the type of person who thinks, “I’ll just do it myself so I know it’s done right.” But sometimes, that mindset backfires. I take on too much and end up drowning under the weight of it all. As a new mom, the fear and uncertainty were paralyzing. I had no idea if I was doing anything right. My anxiety got so bad that I couldn’t even leave my baby with her own father—who is perfectly capable—just to take a shower. And when I did manage to sneak away for a few minutes, I would cry, consumed by doubts: “Am I doing this right?” I’m my harshest critic, and as a mom, that critic never rests.
One day, I hadn’t showered in two days. I was covered in spit-up, my sweet husband was working a 14-hour shift, and I was completely overwhelmed. My baby wouldn’t let me put her down; the moment I tried, she screamed. Managing self-care alongside caring for a newborn felt impossible. To make matters worse, she had just thrown up on me for the fifth time that day, and as I was cleaning up, I spilled my water. Just that small accident—the spilled drink—was enough to tip me over, and I started crying.
Then my phone rang. It was Becca, wanting to FaceTime. I didn’t even want to answer. I was sobbing and ashamed. But somehow, I forced myself to pick up. Once we were on the phone, she immediately noticed I was avoiding eye contact. “Gabrielle, look at me,” she said gently. That was it—I broke down completely and told her everything: how much I was struggling, how exhausted and overwhelmed I felt. And without hesitation, she said, “That’s it. I’m coming over. I’m taking the baby, and you are going to eat and shower.”
When she arrived, she took my baby into her arms, and I just stood there, frozen, unsure of what to do. She looked at me and smiled, “We are fine! Go take a shower. I know what I’m doing!” And just like that, she shooed me away.
I sat down to eat, finally able to breathe, and glanced over to see her gently loving on my baby. My little girl was perfectly okay. I realized then that sometimes, the kind of love and support we need doesn’t come from advice or words—it comes from someone showing up, taking the weight off your shoulders, and letting you take care of yourself for a moment. I even snuck a picture because the moment felt too precious not to remember.
This is the kind of love that saves you. The kind of love that shows up, no matter how many times you protest. Thank you, Becca, for loving both me and my sweet girl, for letting me cry, and for reminding me that it’s okay to take care of myself—even if it’s just to eat and shower.”
