Some days, I sit at the kitchen table when everyone’s gone to bed, and I just let myself breathe for a moment. It’s quiet, finally, but my mind is anything but. I love my family more than anything, but honestly, it’s hard. Really hard. People don’t talk enough about how challenging it is to keep everything together. I have three kids, all different ages, all with different needs, and a husband who works long hours. Most days, I feel like I’m juggling too many things at once—laundry, homework, grocery lists, dentist appointments, making sure the little one eats something besides pasta for the third day in a row. And while I’m grateful to have them, I sometimes feel like I’m disappearing in the middle of all this. Like I’m no longer “me,” just “mom,” the one who’s supposed to fix everything.

There’s also the emotional stuff, the things that don’t get posted on Facebook or shared in group chats. The tantrums, the teenage silence, the worries about if we’re raising them right. My oldest is starting to pull away, and I know it’s normal, but it still stings. He used to tell me everything. Now it’s just shrugs and “nothing, mom.” And my middle child—she’s so sensitive, so emotional lately. I worry I’m not giving her enough attention. The baby still wakes up at night sometimes, and I’m just… exhausted. But I keep going, because that’s what moms do, right? We keep going. But inside, I worry all the time. Am I doing enough? Am I messing them up somehow? Am I being a good wife while trying to be a good mom? Because some days, it feels like I’m failing at both.

Money’s tight, too, and that brings a whole different kind of stress. It’s not just about affording big things like vacations or new clothes, it’s the small stuff. School fees, birthday gifts for classmates, a pair of shoes that suddenly don’t fit anymore. I find myself up at night trying to plan out the next month’s bills, wondering if we’ll make it to the next paycheck without dipping into savings again. My husband does his best, he works hard, but sometimes I wish we talked more about how all of this is affecting us. I can tell he’s tired too, but we rarely sit down and really talk. We’re just passing each other, getting through the days. And I miss him. I miss us. But even when I want to bring it up, I don’t know how without making it sound like I’m complaining, so I keep it in. I keep everything in.

Despite all of it, I try to stay hopeful. I try to find small joys—the way my daughter hugs me when she’s sleepy, the silly jokes my son still makes when he forgets to be “too cool,” the way my husband reaches for my hand in the dark when he thinks I’m already asleep. It’s not perfect, not even close. But it’s ours. These family challenges, as draining and frustrating as they are, also remind me that we’re still here, still showing up for each other, even in the mess. And maybe that’s enough right now. Maybe it’s okay that I don’t have it all figured out. Maybe part of being a family is learning how to get through the hard stuff together, even when you feel like everything’s falling apart. I just wish someone told me how heavy it could feel some days. But even so, I wouldn’t trade it. Not for a second.

Stories in the same category