Motherhood is often painted as a journey of pure love, boundless joy, and selfless devotion. We are told to be compassionate, patient, and kind. We are expected to be understanding, tolerant, and unshaken by exhaustion. But what happens when we are not? What if we feel everything we were told we shouldn’t—anger, frustration, sadness, and even resentment?

Throughout my pregnancy, I was filled with excitement, eagerly waiting for the moment I would hold my baby in my arms. I envisioned the warmth of our bond, the gentle rhythm of late-night feedings, and the joy of caring for my little one. But after delivery, reality hit differently. My body was drained, my mind exhausted, and my emotions unpredictable. Sleep-deprived and overwhelmed, I longed for rest, but my baby needed me constantly. The hormonal rollercoaster intensified my emotions, and suddenly, the responsibilities of caregiving felt suffocating.

Nobody prepares you for the unspoken struggles of postpartum life. The sleepless nights, the mental load of being the primary caregiver, the weight of societal expectations—all of it builds up, yet no one truly talks about it. Each woman experiences postpartum in her own way, yet the world continues to place a singular, unrealistic expectation on us: to be unbreakable.

For me, it wasn’t postpartum depression—at least not as I understood it. But postpartum rage? That was real.

I felt trapped. I loved my baby deeply, but I resented the burden of being “the default parent.” I was angry at the lack of help, the lack of understanding, and the loss of my own identity. I needed support, yet it felt as though everyone around me assumed I had it all under control. They were present, but not in the way I needed. Their well-intentioned listening felt more like passive acknowledgment rather than true empathy.

The worst part? The guilt. I felt guilty for feeling this way, guilty for wanting a break, guilty for not being the ever-smiling, ever-loving mother I thought I would be. And that guilt made me even angrier.

But as time passed, something shifted. I found my rhythm. I stopped seeking validation in unrealistic expectations. I learned to let go of unsolicited advice, to prioritize my well-being, and to embrace my new role in a way that felt right for me. While I may never fully reclaim who I was before, I have come to accept and love the person I am becoming.

I often wonder—how many mothers silently endure this emotional whirlwind? How many of us battle guilt, exhaustion, and rage in solitude, simply because these struggles are still considered taboo?

Motherhood is a profound journey, but shouldn’t it also be more supported, more understood, and more fulfilling for every mother? We are strong, but even the strongest need a helping hand, a listening ear, and a space where they can simply be—without judgment, without guilt, and with the love and empathy they so freely give to others.

Author: Pranali Mehta