I’ve been a wife for years, a mother to two beautiful little humans, a midwife who’s held space for countless births, a full-time worker, and a business owner. On paper, it sounds like a lot – because it is.  

Each role has brought me joy, meaning, and growth. But together, they’ve also taught me about the unique weight women carry. It’s a weight made of love, responsibility, sacrifice, and quiet endurance. Some days it feels light and buoyant, and I feel like I am holding it all with grace; other days, impossibly heavy like I’m barely keeping the plates spinning. In the stories of the women I’ve cared for, and in my own journey, I see the threads that tie us all together. 

This is the thing about womanhood: it’s a constant balancing act, a rhythm of giving, stretching, loving, and quietly carrying more than most people see. And in every season – whether you’re dreaming of a baby, cradling a newborn, or juggling meetings with school runs – there’s a weight we hold. Not always heavy in a bad way, but undeniable. 

Choosing to Have a Baby 

The decision to bring a child into the world isn’t just about biology; it is deeply personal. It’s about heart, timing, and circumstance. For some, it’s a lifelong dream. For others, it’s a choice weighed carefully against personal goals, finances, health, or past experiences. Society often romanticises motherhood but rarely acknowledges the quiet courage it takes to step into it—or the equally brave choice to wait, or not to at all. 

I’ve known what it is to choose to continue with a pregnancy, knowing that my choice meant going it alone. Sometimes bravery is costly. I’ve also experienced the joy of a loving marriage, embarking on the journey of ‘trying for a baby’ and the hope that comes with it. 

The unsolicited advice 

It’s one of the quiet challenges of womanhood: the unsolicited advice. From the moment you express a desire to have a baby – or even before – you’re met with a chorus of opinions on what you should do, when you should do it, and how you should feel about it all. These comments often come from a well-meaning place, but they’re shaped by someone else’s lens – their upbringing, their experiences, their fears. And while the words may seem harmless, they can land heavily, especially when people don’t know what you’ve already walked through, what you’ve lost, or how hard it’s been to simply get to where you are. The truth is, there is no single roadmap for womanhood or motherhood – sure, you can look to the elders for advice and glean from their experiences but do so with the understanding that each of us must walk our own path. Honouring that path, without apology or comparison, is where our strength truly lies. 

Preparing for Conception 

Many skip this phase and land straight in two lines on a pee stick; this is awesome. But for many others, once the decision is made, preparation can bring hope, anxiety, and sometimes heartache.  When you say “yes” to trying, suddenly your body becomes a focus of analysis: cycles, nutrition, ovulation tests... It’s meant to be natural and effortless – we are told to “relax” while also being handed a checklist of things to track and improve. It can feel like the first of many times your body becomes a project to manage rather than simply live in. You hope. You wait. You wonder. 

Pregnancy 

Pregnancy is a transformation you can’t fully prepare for. Your body stretches, swells, and shifts in ways you never anticipated. As your body expands, your emotions also swell – gentle one moment, overwhelming the next. Hormones rise and fall like waves, carrying with them unexpected tears over a forgotten snack or a kind word from a stranger. Reactions become less predictable, not because you're losing control, but because you're becoming more attuned - your body and heart stretching in ways that logic alone can’t explain. As your reflection changes, so might your sense of self. What once felt familiar may now feel foreign, and your confidence might faulter on occasion. It’s not weakness; it’s transformation and all a part of the becoming. 

Are we expected to glow, to be endlessly grateful, to carry it all with a smile? Between the joy, there’s exhaustion, nausea, tears you can’t quite explain. And that’s okay; all of those feelings are valid. There is no one right way to feel. 

I’ve stood in the mirror staring at my beautiful pregnant self in awe, wonder and sadness with tears streaming down my face... Why? Because I am creating life which is obviously great, but my favourite top no longer fits over the bump, which is devastating in the moment.   

Birth 

Birth is a marathon of the body and soul — a raw, relentless climb toward something both ancient and entirely your own. It builds slowly, wave by wave, until your breath is all you have to hold onto. You are carried by the voice of your midwife, the steady hand of your birth partner, the whispered reminders that you are doing it — even when you swear you can’t. There are moments when surrender feels closer than strength, when the pain cracks something open that is not just physical. And for some, the healthcare system meant to embrace them feels distant or absent, forcing them to gather courage from places no one can see. But still, you rise. With grit, with instinct, with the fierce pull of life on the other side, you push through — not because it’s easy, but because somewhere deep within, you already knew you could. 

Birth by caesarean is its own kind of bravery — quieter, perhaps, but no less powerful. It begins not always with waves, but with surrender: of control, of timing, of expectations. Under the bright lights and steady hands of the surgical team, you are both witness and vessel, holding your breath as your baby is brought into the world through a line drawn across your skin. It may feel surreal — distant even — yet still, the strength it takes to lie open and vulnerable is no less than any mountain climbed. For some, the system holds them gently; for others, it feels cold and clinical, a space where voices are not always heard. And still, you find a way to endure — to meet your baby with courage, even through trembling. Caesarean birth is not a shortcut, nor is it less — it is a different kind of labour, born of resilience, trust, and the deep, unspoken instinct to bring life forward, no matter the path. 

However you birth, it is still raw, powerful, and unlike anything else. It is a threshold – a doorway you walk through and never return from the same. It can be triumphant, it can be traumatic, and often it is both. It leaves behind physical marks: stitches, soreness, changes in shape. It can also leave psychological and emotional scars that are not visible. The world applauds your strength for enduring it and celebrates the arrival of your baby but rarely pauses to acknowledge the quiet work of healing afterwards.  

I was blessed enough to come out of it relatively unscathed on both occasions, but I have held the hands and wiped the tears of those who have had a long journey of recovery after bringing their child into the world. I have seen the birth of families, I have grieved with those whose babies have been born asleep, given to the bosom of angels. I have seen womanhood in all its glory and it is breathtaking. 

Postnatal Period 

The weeks and months after birth are often a blur of feeding, endless nappy changes, soothing, and learning your baby’s needs. You are constantly meeting their emotional and physical demands while trying to remember who you are beyond "mother." Hormones crash, sleep becomes a distant memory, and the loss of your old routines can feel overwhelming – not to mention the constant wondering if you are “doing it right”. I was a midwife when I had my firstborn and still often had that niggling feeling at the back of my mind – the sleep deprivation certainly did not help me recall all the knowledge that years of training had drilled into me. I often felt like people expected me to know it all and be the expert but just as every birth is different, every baby is different, and my son and I had to find out own rhythm. 

Did you feel love at first sight? I did not. Okay, full disclosure: after the burning and stinging of pushing a human out eased off a bit, I became more interested in seeing the tiny human I had made. But the first hour, I really was not that interested. The bonding came with time. 

So I know that not every woman feels an instant, overwhelming bond the moment her baby is placed in her arms — and that truth deserves to be spoken gently and without shame. For some, love grows slowly, quietly, in the rhythm of night feeds and nappy changes, in the soft moments between exhaustion and presence. If you don’t feel that rush of affection right away, you are not broken — you are human. You are not alone in this, and you do not have to walk it alone.  Connection does not always arrive like lightning; sometimes, it arrives like dawn.  

There is help and support if you feel it goes deeper than a disconnect with your baby, so reach out and explore this with your midwife or health visitor. You are not the first to feel this way and you certainly won’t be the last. Allow yourself the space for your journey to unfold in its own time and shape. 

Often in this period, your old self feels far away but don’t rush to figure it all out. Amidst the spit up, endless laundry and poonamis that make you question your life choices are the most precious moments. I mean, what is it about the smell of a newborn’s head that is so therapeutic?? It will not always feel wonderful but in the moments when it does, it's like heaven on earth.  

Be kind to yourself and accept good help (that is the help that brings you food, cleans for you and does a load of laundry while you nap). We are not designed to do this alone.  

Finding yourself again takes time—and you deserve that time. 

Balancing Work, Life, and Parenting 

As the fog lifts, life shifts again and a new challenge emerges: balance. There is an unspoken expectation to “bounce back” and prove you can still be everything to everyone: be productive at work, present at home, and still somehow care for yourself. Work calls, emails ping, the school run; this juggling act is exhausting, and the truth is balance is not a fixed state—it is a constant recalibration and a series of small adjustments day after day. And some days, the most balanced thing you can do is let something go. 

We are not even going to talk about the beast that is menopause. That is a topic for another day... But for our sisters, aunties, friends, and mothers that are on that journey, we salute you. 

The weight of womanhood is not just about responsibilities and the work that we do – it is about the invisible emotional labour, the constant mental load, the unspoken pressures, and the love that pulls us out of bed even when we are bone-tired. It is the resilience that runs quietly through our days.  

I know this weight. I have carried it in the 2 a.m. feeds before an early clinical shift, in the late-night invoices after the kids are asleep, in the moments I have wondered if I’m enough for my children, my husband, my work, and myself. 

If you are feeling stretched thin, please hear this: you are not failing. You are loving. You are giving. You are showing up. And that is everything. 

To every woman reading this: your feelings are valid, your efforts are seen, and your presence matters. You are more than the roles you juggle, and the weight you carry is a testament to your love and strength—not a sign you are falling short. 

With love and fierce belief in you,

Dede