Mama. Wifey. Tired.
Before I became a mom, my identity felt pretty straightforward. As an over-achiever, my career as an education specialist, then later becoming a BCBA, was everything. It was where I channeled my passion, my relentless drive, my intellect. My days were meticulously structured, my goals were clear, and my self-worth felt intrinsically linked to my professional accomplishments. I truly believed I could "achieve" motherhood, too, just like any other goal.
Then, motherhood happened.
Suddenly, a tiny, adorable, incredibly demanding human arrived, and the carefully constructed edifice of "me" – the organized, in-control, over-achieving "me" – began to wobble. The perfectly curated daily schedule dissolved into a chaotic symphony of nursing, diaper changes, and the relentless, often futile, pursuit of sleep. My professional wardrobe was replaced by yoga pants (or whatever wasn't covered in spit-up). And the deep dives into behavioral science texts gave way to endless, slightly off-key repetitions of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star."
My identity, once a well-defined career woman and a master of accomplishment, felt... blurred. It wasn't just about adding a new role; it felt like a complete re-orchestration of who I was, often with no clear metrics for "success." How do you quantify a perfectly timed burp or a fleeting baby smile? Now, every decision, every hour, every ounce of energy, was filtered through the unpredictable lens of "mama." And just when I thought I might be finding my footing as a mom, the "wifey" role needed attention, too.
The truth? Most days, I'm just plain tired. It's a deep, bone-weary tired that no amount of coffee (though I certainly try!) can fully fix. It's the exhaustion of a brain that never truly switches off, constantly toggling between client needs, non-profit duties, toddler activity planning, childcare logistics, and whether that cough sounds "normal" or not. The overachiever and BCBA in me still yearns for neat checkboxes and measurable progress, but motherhood often laughs in the face of such aspirations.
But in this profound exhaustion, this identity shift, and the humbling realization that some things can't be "achieved" through sheer will, something else emerged. A deeper empathy. A raw understanding of the daily juggle. It’s one thing to read about parental stress in a textbook; it’s another to live it while also trying to keep up with your professional passions and your toddler's increasingly expensive berry obsession.
And this perspective shift has profoundly impacted my work. Even before I earned my BCBA credential, I thought I was quite good at conducting parent training sessions. And don't get me wrong, I knew my stuff – the principles, the research, the evidence-based strategies. But experiencing parenthood firsthand has given me an entirely different lens. Before, I knew what to say; now, I truly know how to say it. The biggest difference? Adding way, way more grace. For myself, for my child, and especially for the incredible parents I have the privilege of supporting. Because now, when I offer guidance, it's not just informed by science, but by the undeniable, messy, beautiful reality of living it.
This journey, however exhausting, has reshaped me in ways I never anticipated. It's given me an even richer perspective on the families I serve, allowing me to approach every consultation not just as an expert, but as someone who genuinely "gets it" – including the unique challenges faced by those of us who once thought we could conquer anything with enough effort. Because while my identity has expanded to include "Mama" and "Wifey" (and yes, "Tired"), it's also given me a renewed purpose in empowering other parents to navigate their own unique journeys with confidence, a little less overwhelm, and perhaps, a gentle letting go of the need to "over-achieve" every single moment.
After all, we're all just trying to figure it out, right? And maybe, just maybe, we can even have a little fun (and a lot of coffee) along the way.
