I don’t know how others are, but I…
This is how I would start any discussion about the experience a parent goes through when they go on parental leave. The way this change “hits” you is deeply personal and depends on countless factors, but there are a few common feelings we can all recognize.
The shift from the status of an active professional to that of a full-time caregiver can be sudden and, at times, violent. Before, my schedule was written with colored markers, full of deadlines, meetings, and high-impact projects. Suddenly, the only “deadline” was the baby’s nap time, and my only “project” was keeping him happy and safe.
It’s not less valuable, but it is a completely different kind of effort.
The transition to a new rhythm: the euphoria and the truth
I clearly remember the first months of euphoria, with the smell of milk and irregular naps. I was in a bubble, baby in my arms, amidst diapers, bottles, and the domestic routine divided into two-hour blocks. There were no anxieties or existential questions at first. I was convinced I could enjoy this “well-deserved” break and that I would be able to read 10 books and learn another foreign language while the little one slept.
The truth, however, hit later.
When I reached the phase of “exclusive sleep in my arms, me standing up, four times a day,” I realized I wasn’t doing anything else. It was a brutal transition from being a woman who was “full hands on” both at the office and at home, to begging for 30 minutes (maaaximum) free just for a shower. It’s a direct assault on personal freedom and the ability to do what you feel like, when you feel like doing it. I started feeling frustrated just because I couldn’t finish a thought without being interrupted. I felt like a laptop with 100 tabs open, but with no battery.
Loss of self and redefining the role
The period of parental leave forced me to question my role. I didn’t have time for the professional environment; my brain was busy managing an immense responsibility, anticipating dangers, and making apocalyptic scenarios. For example, I would wake up at night thinking not about the next project, but about what to do if the baby gets a high fever at 3 AM. These scenarios exhausted me mentally more than a demanding project from the office.
By the way, I hope you have at least Peditel (a local emergency pediatric advice line) on speed dial.
All the world’s problems seemed to fall on my shoulders at once. The heaviness came from within, from that voice that questioned my capacity. It’s not necessarily about the hardship the baby brings—the frustration is about how our buttons are pushed, our tolerance for the restriction of boundaries, and how we manage the loss of self.
Fertile topics for my many therapy sessions.
The restart: baby steps and flexible opportunities
The truth is, the grey matter doesn’t die. The brain is enriched with new experiences and connections. This realization allowed me to make a small change: I decided to take on a light professional activity, extremely flexible in terms of time and resource consumption. I started with content creation, for 1-2 hours, after the child fell asleep. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. It was a measurable result, different from washing the dishes, and it reconfirmed my professional value, not just my maternal one.
This baby step made a difference. It reconnected me to the idea of being able to and producing a concrete result that reaches someone. Even a single person is enough.
Summary for the new mom: you are not alone!
It’s normal to feel whatever you feel. Don’t judge yourself too harshly. Being a mother does not cancel out the right to want to be a woman, a professional, a friend. They all coexist.
The pause is temporary. Whatever happens in your professional field, you will catch up. When you return, you will be a better professional, with increased emotional intelligence and unbeatable crisis management. Motherhood is a soft skills bootcamp!
The grey matter isn’t going anywhere. Try to find activities that remind you that you still think beyond nap schedules or weaning. Whether it’s a podcast about anything, a one-hour online course, or even writing a coherent thank-you email. Do it for yourself.
Ask for help! Family, friends, therapy, anyone. Just ask. You’re not a superhero if you exhaust yourself alone; you’re a superhero if you know how to ask for resources when you’re at your limit.
And most importantly: don’t let comparisons with “perfect Instagram moms” bring you down. Every family has its own path. You are good enough exactly as you are now. This process is transforming you. It’s not a break, it’s an evolution. Tomorrow will be an easier day.
We will get out of this stage 2.0 women.
It’s normal.
You are not alone.
