MÈRE Stories: Becca Hamilton
The Hidden Side of Motherhood
When I had my second child, I experienced postpartum depression that left me feeling more isolated than I ever imagined.
Even though I had a very supportive family and a deeply loving husband, there were moments I felt like no one truly saw me.
I longed to be held, to be attended to, despite being the one who is usually the strong one for everyone else.
The shame I felt for not being my usual joyful self weighed heavily on me. I’d spent so many years being the "bright light" in others' lives, and suddenly I was overwhelmed by tears and uncertainty.
13 months after the birth of my second child, I welcomed my third. The joy of a growing family was undeniable, but what I didn’t expect was how quickly things shifted from postpartum depression to postpartum anxiety.
Instead of feeling the heavy fog of sadness, I found myself consumed by constant worry. The what-ifs seemed endless. “What if I can’t handle this all the time?” "Am I doing enough to care for the baby and my toddlers?” I felt as if I was on high alert all the time. The guilt would return, too—guilt for not feeling more present, more at peace with my children and my husband.
But through this journey, I learned that anxiety isn’t a sign of weakness either. It’s another layer of motherhood that needs attention and care. I had to learn to pause, breathe, and be kind to myself, just as I would to a client or a friend.
I realized something important through these five years of motherhood — it is okay to not be okay. Healing isn’t linear, and sometimes, even the strongest people need to lean on others.
Motherhood is a beautiful and overwhelming journey, filled with moments of chaos, wonder, and discovery. But there are times when this joy coexists with deep sorrow—the delicate balance of holding the laughter of children close while also carrying the weight of loss, grief, and the inevitability of death. My husband and I have found ourselves torn between the brightness of new life and the shadows of cherished loved ones slipping away in the last several years. At times the grief has been excruciating.
It’s a tender reminder that, as mothers, we are asked to nurture not only the growing hearts of our children but also to hope for the healing of our own hearts in the face of grief.
Through it all, we learn that joy and sorrow, though seemingly opposites, can exist together, shaping us into more compassionate, resilient beings.
“If you're feeling this way, know you’re not alone. And if you're struggling in silence, please remember: asking for support is a sign of strength, not weakness. Most clients do not know my story, but they know my care. I am here to walk with you toward hope and healing — both are available for you.”
—Becca Hamilton