Becoming a mom was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. I was thrust into a whole new identity, and suddenly, all the things that used to make me feel like myself were gone or out of reach.
As an Olympian, I was used to setting goals and achieving them. I was used to working hard, seeing results, and feeling capable.
And then I had a baby.
I was learning how to breastfeed, recovering physically from childbirth, navigating postpartum hormones, and trying to care for this tiny human who came with no instruction manual.
My inner critic got loud, fast.
I remember going back to the hospital a few days after her birth because my daughter had lost too much of her body weight. While getting lectured by the pediatrician, I felt like I had done something wrong. Like I wasn’t good enough. What kind of mother was I if I couldn’t even provide enough food for my own baby?
Breastfeeding is marketed as one of the most natural things in the world. I had watched a five-minute YouTube video when I was pregnant and thought I had it all figured out. I look back and laugh at how I was so naive. I have come to learn that breastfeeding is actually a learned skill for both you and your baby, and it’s definitely not easy.
I was exhausted, emotional, and completely depleted. I was trying to breastfeed as well as pump to increase my supply. And when I had to supplement with formula, even though I knew rationally that “fed is best,” I sobbed for hours. It felt like I wasn’t enough.
My inner critic was relentless.
You’re failing.
You’re a bad mom.
Other moms can do this, why can’t you?
A familiar sentiment
If I’m honest, it didn’t feel that different from the voice I’ve heard in sport for years. It was the same inner critic that showed up in pressure situations when I cared deeply about the outcome.
The difference is that this time, there was no scoreboard. No performance review. No clear sign that I was doing a good job.
Just a lot of second guessing.
A few months ago, I stood on a stage, nearly nine months pregnant, delivering a TEDx talk about the inner critic and three tools I used to quiet it. At the time, I was reflecting on my experiences in sport.
But I’ve come to realize that sometimes you give the advice that you need to hear.
Because here I was, just weeks later, in the middle of new motherhood, needing those tools more than ever.
What helped me start to shift was recognizing my negative inner voice and trying to replace it with something kinder.
I actually asked my husband to tell me every night that I was doing a good job, because I needed to hear it out loud before I could start to believe it myself. He was incredibly patient and supportive, especially on the days when I felt like I was falling apart.
Friends checked in. They dropped off food. They sent messages and offered helpful advice. I reached out for support from La Leche League and a very kind volunteer helped me navigate breastfeeding through texts and voice notes. We hired a postpartum doula for a few hours a week so I could get some sleep. Slowly, I started to feel a bit better.
And sometimes, when things felt overwhelming, I’d try to make it a bit lighter. When simple things like leaving the house for an appointment felt impossible, I’d say out loud to my daughter, “We are strong, capable, independent women.”
I hoped that if I repeated that mantra enough, maybe I’d believe it.
Be your own teammate
Looking back, I can see how the same tools I shared in that TEDx talk started to show up in this motherhood experience.
Talking to myself like a teammate meant reminding myself that I was doing a good job. That this is all totally new to me and of course there is a learning curve. That I was trying my best.
Reframing success meant lowering my standards. Some days, success looked like taking a shower and brushing my teeth. I let myself celebrate another day of simply keeping myself and my baby alive. I stopped trying to optimize every moment and started trying to be present instead.
Gratitude looked like reminding myself that I had wished to be a mother. That my beautiful daughter was finally here in my arms. I felt grateful for my husband, and the way I fell in love with him even more watching him become a dad. I was grateful for my body and the miracle it had performed of growing and delivering a human into the world. I felt grateful for the women in my life who showed up for me and welcomed me into the sisterhood of motherhood.
It didn’t make everything easy. My goodness, it was all so hard. But it helped to quiet that voice.
Because the truth is, the inner critic doesn’t disappear when you reach a certain milestone. It doesn’t go away when you become an Olympian, start a business, or become a mom.
If anything, it gets louder.
But we have more control than we think: we can notice it and choose a different voice.
I still have so many moments where that critical voice creeps in. But I try to be quicker to catch it and to respond with something more kind.
And if there’s one thing I hope women take away from this, it’s this: You don’t have to earn or prove a thing. You are enough, just as you are.
Even on the hard days.
Especially on the hard days.
