Why I started writing again?

Motherhood Feels Lonely and I think, parents don’t need more advice — they need community...

Five years ago, I wrote my first letter to my daughter.

She hadn’t even been born yet.

She was still happily living in her tiny one-bedroom apartment — my belly — slowly running out of space and getting ready to move out into the world.

I remember that moment clearly.

I was very pregnant. Very happy. And very scared.

It was the middle of COVID when we decided to have a child. Looking back, I wouldn’t change that decision for anything in the world.

But I won’t pretend it was easy.

It was hard.

Not just the sleepless nights or the endless nappies or the exhaustion that seeps into your bones.

It was hard because I was alone.

Alone in a foreign country. Alone with a new born. Alone during days that felt like they never ended.

My husband worked long hours to keep our family financially stable. He was exhausted too — just in a different way.

While he was carrying the weight of responsibility outside the house, I was carrying a different kind of weight inside it.

The kind no one really sees.

The kind that quietly builds when you spend twenty-four hours a day responsible for another tiny human.

Days started to blur together.

Morning turned into afternoon, afternoon into night, night into another morning.

Sometimes it felt like my world had shrunk to the size of our living room.

And when I tried to explain how I felt, I often heard the same thing:

"These aren’t real problems."

But when you are alone with a child 24 hours a day…when you barely sleep…when your body is still recovering…when your identity suddenly feels lost somewhere between feeding schedules and laundry…

Those feelings are very real.

People often say:

"Everyone has done this before." "You’ll be fine." "Other mothers manage."

And maybe that’s true.

But something important has changed.

A generation or two ago, families lived closer together.

Grandparents were nearby. Neighbours knew each other. There was always someone around.

Someone to hold the baby while you slept for an hour. Someone to bring you a cup of tea. Someone to say, “You’re doing a good job.”

There used to be a village.

Today, many parents are raising children far away from their families.

We move countries. We move cities. We build new lives.

And suddenly we find ourselves trying to do one of the hardest things in the world without the support systems that once made it possible.

Sometimes when you ask for help, you don’t receive help.

You receive judgement.

"Why did you move away?" "You chose this life." "Other people manage."

And slowly, quietly, you start to believe that maybe everything really is your fault.

At the same time, society is telling you that parenthood should feel magical all the time.

Natural birth or C-section? Breastfeeding or bottle feeding? Working mum or stay-at-home mum?

Every decision feels like it is being measured.

But here is something I wish more parents heard:

We are all real parents.

It does not matter how our children entered the world. It does not matter how we feed them. It does not matter if we sometimes feel overwhelmed.

Parenthood is not a competition.

And what parents need most is not more advice.

We need support.

We need someone who listens without judgement. We need warm words instead of criticism. We need open ears and strong arms.

Sometimes we just need someone to hold the baby for ten minutes so we can take a shower.

Yes, the world has bigger problems.

There are wars happening not far from us. There are people suffering in ways we cannot even imagine.

But that does not mean our feelings should be ignored.

Because I learned something important.

When I am okay, everything around me becomes better.

When I feel supported, my home becomes calmer.

I am more patient with my child. I am a more loving partner. I cook, I laugh, I create.

I feel like myself again.

And when a parent feels okay, the whole family feels it.

That realisation is how LALO was born.

LALO — Life After Little Ones — is not just a blog.

It is a place for honest conversations about parenthood.

A place where we can speak without pretending everything is perfect.

A place where we don’t compare pain.

A place where parents can support each other, laugh about the chaos, share the beautiful moments, and admit when things feel hard.

Because the truth is simple.

Most parents are doing their best.

Sometimes we succeed. Sometimes we fail. Sometimes we learn the hard way.

And that’s okay.

Because mistakes are not proof that we are failing.

They are proof that we are learning.

And sometimes the most powerful thing a parent can do is this:

Sit down for an hour. Take a breath. Recharge.

Then go back home with more patience, more love, and a little more strength.

And maybe — if we build the right community around us — we can remind each other of something we all need to hear:

You are not alone.