We're always on the hunt for collaborating with other fellow female-founded companies, especially those focusing on Motherhood our favorite topic here at Mom Culture.  We were so excited to partner with Bumpin Blends a member of the amazing Female Founder Collective to bring a fun giveaway to our followers on Mother's day weekend.  

This made by moms for moms company knows just how important the tiring job of building a human can be and that's why they've made it their mission to help simplify eating right for two or more with their custom smoothie cubes.  

Their smoothie cubes and lactation cookies are designed to support you during pregnancy and after with the right ingredients, ease of use and delivered right to your door taking the guesswork out of how to get the extra kick of healthy super foods a mama needs!

Blends: 

STRAWBERRY SUPERWOMAN

Need an energy boost? This blend keeps you nourished and energized even on your busiest days.

Three simple words: "Raise Good Humans". I will never forget the first time I saw the Mom Culture shirt with this phrase on it. It immediately resonated with me. Sounds so simple, but is it?

 
No matter our background or current circumstance, I think it’s fair to say all of us moms hope to do just that. I have played that phrase over and over in my head. I’ve envisioned what it looks like, what it feels like, and how it can be achieved.
 
Not only is it imperative that we strive each and every day to raise genuinely good human beings, but it's also the biggest challenge we will face. Becoming a mother is (without a doubt) the single most miraculous event to ever occur. Amidst the miracle, we are simultaneously facing some of life's biggest hurdles.
 
Our bodies are different, our emotions are all over the place, and we feel more depleted than we ever have before. We’ve strapped into the world’s largest roller coaster and the end is nowhere in sight.
 
I will be the first one to admit, I did not like the person I was the first few months after giving birth. I was an emotional wreck. Beyond moody, and did not treat my partner as well as I should have. I was overwhelmed, exhausted, and just unhappy with my appearance. I refused to cut myself any slack. Instead, I talked down to myself daily. 
 
Instead of making positive changes in my daily life I used my energy to compare my situation with those around me. I critiqued my circumstance based on what I was seeing and caused my own suffering. 
 
One day, while scrolling through Instagram, I came across Mom Culture. A friend of mine posted a photo wearing the shirt that said, Raise Good Humans. I can't explain why, but that phrase really struck a chord for me. I began reading posts where numerous moms shared their postpartum bodies and experiences. I felt an overwhelming sense of belonging. 
 

These women were real, raw, and inspiring. Over the next week or so I continued to follow the posts and read the Mom Culture Blog. I still, had those three words glued to my brain.

It really hit me. I want nothing more in this world than to set my child up for success. I don’t want her merely surviving; I want her thriving. How can I ensure she does so? How can I instill the morals and values I hold dear, and how can I look back and know I raised a good human?
 
Simple, model it myself. Live it myself. Children are sponges. They absorb just about everything around them. What they see, hear, and feel all becomes a significant part of who they are. 
 
It was time for me to stop becoming so negatively self-absorbed. It was time for me to embrace myself, my situations and current circumstance with love and gratitude. Instead of complaining about the things I did not like about myself I chose to take action and change them. 
 
I made a list of goals I wanted to achieve. I wrote down ten things I love about myself and focused on that. I took hold of my health, started exercising regularly and went back to a plant-based diet. I decided to do little things each day that make me happy. It will always be a work in progress but I will stay persistent and consistent. 
 
Ultimately, if you want to Raise Good Humans, you need to be one yourself. Love and embrace who you are and lead the happiest life you can. When our children look back they should remember how loving and happy we were. How we didn't let the little things get to us, and how much we loved and accepted them as well as ourselves.
 
Don’t be afraid to seek help, or reach out to those around you who can relate. Sometimes all we need is a shoulder to lean on and an ear to listen. 
 
xoxo,

Stephany

@Mama_n_lu

_____________________________________

Stephany lives in SoCal and wife and full-time mama. Her blog focuses on motherhood and encourages other mamas to keep on truckin' even when times get tough. Follow her on Instagram and check out her blog. here.

We’d like to share with you all a new short film project by writer/director Alex Kyrou and producer Clare Shields. BLANK SHORES is a science fiction short film which explores baby loss and the mental health of mothers and fathers coming to terms with reality. Alex and Clare are very passionate that the film not only entertains and has artistic merit but also raises awareness and generates understanding and empathy. They believe the film has the capability to move people and provoke meaningful conversations.

The film stars BAFTA-winning Georgina Campbell from TV shows ‘Krypton’, ‘Black Mirror’, ‘Broadchurch’ and many more. Behind the lens is John Lynch who shot several prolific music promos for Bjork, Blur, The Prodigy, and the Chemical Brothers.

They are currently running a crowdfunding campaign to raise some finance to get the film made this year. A big part of the campaign is to raise awareness of the themes and so they have teamed up with UK charities CALM (www.thecalmzone.net) and Sands (www.sands.org.uk) by sharing the fantastic work they both do.

You can read more about the film and the team behind the project by following this link. 

Written by: Kelsey Brown

I’m truly blessed to be a boy-mom and a girl-mom. We have one of each and it’s awesome to get to experience both. It’s amazing how two children, raised the same way, can be so different and have such distinct personalities.

Our son is very gentle, always helping and giving, a real people-pleaser. While he can be stubborn at times, he mostly abides and does what he’s told. Our daughter, on the other hand, is dramatic, sweet when she wants to be, and so so strong-willed. In public, she’s often very shy. She’ll turn her head and even close her eyes when someone talks to her. My son, however, will tell anyone who wants to listen everything about himself and anything else he can think of. Sophie is very dainty and particular. Her fine motor skills are pretty refined for only being a year old. She uses her little fingers carefully and walks on her tippy-toes all the time. Jackson, who’s three, is one of the loudest kids I’ve ever been around, especially when he walks. He can never just walk, he’s got to stomp (and I mean STOMP), or hop, or gallop, or waddle like a penguin. He walks…sorry, stomps around the house screaming and roaring and banging on things. He’s all about building things up and tearing them down and making as big a mess as possible in the process.

These differences have taught me so much about myself and life, though. They balance each other out and always keep life interesting. Some of these things might be “first child vs. second child” personality traits, but I think “boy vs. girl” comes into play, too. Here are 4 ways being a mom to both a boy and a girl has altered my perspective of things in life.

1. Fresh air is a game changer…so is playing in the dirt.

Now, I’m not a clean freak by any means, but I will admit that I think of my kid being covered in mud and cringe a little. If you’re like me, it takes a lot of deep breaths to let your kid be a kid sometimes! I tend to get caught up in keeping things tidy or avoiding stains, but with kids, that’s just silly! I’ve learned to let loose a bit and with two kids that are totally outdoorsy, I’ve learned the magic of fresh air and playing in the dirt. Going outside, even for 60 seconds, can turn my whole day around. I’ve never been one to love going outdoors, but now I can’t get enough of it. And to sit down and dig in the dirt with my kids? It’s actually a little therapeutic. It makes me be in the moment. I don’t worry about the mess I’m going to have to clean up, I just enjoy spending time letting my kids be kids.

2. Self-love starts with me.

While society puts pressure on the way boys are “supposed” to look, I think there’s an added pressure on girls. It wasn’t until I had a girl that I finally learned to love my body just the way it is. After having Sophie, I realized that the most she will learn about how to love and accept herself starts with me and the example I set. I actually wrote a whole post about it called Babies and Bodies. You can check it out here.

3. There’s no such thing as girl toys and boy toys.

With each kid, we’ve been pretty particular about the toys we’ve bought them. Boy: you think trucks, dinosaurs, rough and tough. Girl: you think sparkles, baby dolls, all things pink. However, once Sophie was old enough to play, I realized that isn’t the case. She loves driving cars around and thinks it’s funny to roar like a dinosaur. Jackson loves dressing up and seeing how many little toys he can fit in the old purse I initially gave to Sophie. They don’t see pink or blue, girl or boy. They see TOYS! They’re just excited to have something to play with.

4. Everyone’s parenting styles are different, even your own from kid to kid.

This may sound a little like a double standard, but what works for one kid will not work for the other. Like I said before, Jackson is the people-pleaser. He thrives off of rewards and making us happy. If he doesn’t want to eat his supper, but he knows we’ll get to do something fun when he’s finished, he’ll try a little harder to eat than complain. If he doesn’t want to go to bed yet, we talk about all the things we’ll do the day after a good night’s sleep and he’s out like a light within minutes. Sophie, on the other hand, doesn’t really care. To be honest, I’m still trying to figure out how to parent that girl. She is so strong-willed. She cares more about getting what she wants when she wants it, making her harder to reason with. It’s really thrown us for a loop, but I do know that what has worked with Jackson just doesn’t work with Sophie, and that’s ok.

These kiddos have changed my life. Sometimes being a mom is really hard, but it’s also fun and always worth it. They’ve taught me so much about life without even knowing it. It’s been awesome getting to experience the differences and similarities between being a boy mom and a girl mom. All the expectations I had before motherhood flew out with window, especially after baby #2. But that’s what makes it one great big adventure.

_____________________________

Mama. Mommy. Mom.

Written by: Codi B.

 Post written and submitted by Sara of Girl Refurbished 

When my daughter was born I became completely selfless, the far end of a selfish mother. I tended to everything she needed and it was a lot. There were a list of issues for her and I. We didn’t realize she was dairy intolerant till around the six month mark and because of that she was a horrible sleeper due to being in pain or discomfort. We had to go to specialists and she was on medicine for a while. And because I was exclusively breastfeeding, that meant no dairy for me. Since I was exclusively breastfeeding it also meant it was me and only me feeding her. No bottles, no extra help on that end. Now I know a lot of people are asking themselves why? Well we had moved to Virginia when she was 2 1/2 months old. My husband had started a new job, which meant extra hours. I didn’t know anyone in the area so why would I not exclusively breastfed? Who was going to come over and help out? Why would I pump when I’m all by myself? Anyways….breastfeeding came fairly easy at first, but then I discovered I was an over producer. Which sounds great, but I didn’t know how to handle it. I frequently became engorged which caused clogged ducts making it miserable and painful at times. And because she had the undiagnosed dairy intolerance she wasn’t eating and draining me like she would have normally.

There are more stories I could tell you about why it was so hard with her as a baby. But basically, when a baby has a hard time sleeping and eating, which is all they do, that means you have a pretty awful first year. And we did. Obviously there were bright spots and she wasn’t in pain 24/7. She was an extremely happy baby despite all of that. All that means is I had to become extremely selfless. Pour my entire being into figuring out what was wrong with her and how to fix it. And on top of that I had to figure out how to be a mom. I had no idea what I was doing!

When you devote your entire being to someone else you become a shell of your self. Now I’m not saying anything new here. You’ve heard this a million times and it seems like a cliché, but it’s a cliché for a reason. I eventually made friends out in Virginia and had a wonderful time, but it didn’t start till around the one year mark and even then, I wasn’t doing things for myself. Like basic hygiene or anything enjoyable just for me.

Now let’s fast forward to 2016, the year I started this blog. I finally said to myself, YOU ARE A HUMAN BEING and not just a mom. It took me two years, and my husband constantly pushing me, to get out of my funk. I told myself I needed my own thing. I needed to prove to myself that I exist outside being a mother.

Once I started working on my blog I found a new passion. I felt like a new human being and my husband saw the change too. He said he was finally starting to see the old me. I missed her and so did he.

So now let’s fast forward again when I became pregnant with our son, who was born early 2018. I told myself, from the minute I got pregnant, that it would be different this time around. I would be a selfish mother. My face would be washed, I’d take 20 minutes in the day to do a face mask. I’ll work on my blog at night. Tell my husband exactly how I was feeling. Take thirty minutes to myself while he watched the kids. And I’d finally ask my friends and family for help.

Becoming a selfish mother has changed my world. It’s made me a better mom and a better wife. Sure sometimes I think, maybe I should be cleaning or playing with my kids right now. But taking thirty minutes for myself, especially when you’re a stay-at-home mom, won’t be remembered in the end. No one will say to me, why didn’t you clean the dishes instead?

Now I’m far from living my selfish mother life. I still exclusively breastfeed my son and I haven’t been out at night by myself or on a date with my husband since my son’s been born – that’s nine months if you’re counting. I still have to remind myself it’s OK. I’m hoping that by writing all this down I’m reminding myself to reconnect with me and hopefully it’s doing the same for you. You’re going to hate me for saying this but I’m going to anyways. If I can help just one person remember they are still a human being, and not just a mom. That you have things you like to do, that you matter. Self love matters, that being selfish is what YOU NEED TO DO. Please try to dig yourself out of that funk. It’ll seem so slow but then, one day, you’ll realize you’re out of the hole. And then it will feel amazing.

So take time for yourself. If you find yourself going into a hole, or if you’re there right now, take thirty minutes for yourself. I know you want to clean the dishes, or make food or whatever’s on your list but life won’t remember that you weren’t completely on top of all the tiny stuff. Plus no one else cares as much as you. What they’ll remember is that you took a minute to reconnect with yourself, came back and had a smile on your face. So take a moment – here’s how I create my spa moments if you need some ideas.

You can do this. Be a selfish mother.

Written by: Kaleigh M.

Postpartum depression, and especially anxiety, can catch a lot of women off guard. Here’s my experience with dealing with both postpartum anxiety and depression. (Part 1 of 2)

I’ve dealt with both depression and anxiety for over 10 years. So when I was pregnant, I knew there was a high likelihood that I would experience postpartum depression once my daughter was born. I was fully prepared to be on the lookout for symptoms. What I wasn’t aware of, was that postpartum anxiety is also a common condition that affects new moms, and that I’d experience a whole new type of anxiety I’d never felt before.

Before becoming pregnant, I managed my generalized anxiety and depression with medication and regular appointments with a therapist. I’ve accepted that these things just a part of my everyday health routine, the same way eating healthy and brushing my teeth are. I tried decreasing the dose of my medication (with the help of my doctor) when we were trying to get pregnant with the hopes of not needing it during the pregnancy, but quickly learned that was a bad idea. My doctor assured me that the medication and dosage were perfectly safe during pregnancy, so I wasn’t worried.

Once my daughter was born, I knew to look for depression symptoms – sadness, loss of interest in things, loss of appetite, changes in sleep, feelings of guilt. I’d read the literature the doctors and hospital provide.

But what I experienced was something completely different.

When my daughter was around 4 months old, I started getting extremely anxious. I couldn’t sit still, I felt like I constantly needed to be doing something and taking on projects around the house – organizing all the closets, kitchen cabinets and pantry. I rearranged my office, buying an entire shelving unit to store all of my props and photography equipment. I was constantly in a state of organizing and getting rid of things I didn’t use. All hardly things that seem important to a normal human when they’re taking care of a newborn. Yet I couldn’t seem to take my mind off of these trivial tasks.

I also felt physical symptoms like I’d never felt before. I would suddenly get tense, every muscle in my body tightening as I was doing something super normal like cooking dinner or watching TV with my husband. I would not be able to breathe deeply despite the fact that I was aware of my super shallow breathing and trying to manage it. It felt like I was constantly on the brink of a panic attack, even though it usually happened at the most mundane times.

On top of the already stressful situation of caring for a colicky newborn with no clue what I was doing, the extreme guilt I felt about not being able to feed my daughter enough, the lack of sleep that comes with a baby, and trying to get any smidge of work done, the anxiety was overwhelming.

I knew something had to change. I did a little research and discovered that postpartum anxiety affects almost as many women as postpartum depression (about 10-15% of all new moms). They can occur together or separately. Yet nobody seems to warn women about postpartum anxiety.

I already had a follow up appointment with my OB-GYN and had made an appointment with primary care doctor for a medication refill anyway. The medication I was on at the time wasn’t safe for breastfeeding at higher doses, so we decided to try another one that was. But both appointments, especially the one with my primary care doctor, left me feeling a little neglected, like I brought up how I was feeling, yet neither doctor really dug in beyond asking me if I felt suicidal (I didn’t). So it was a quick medication change with no plans for follow ups. It was extremely discouraging. I decided to look for a new PCP while trying the new medication.

Then the real struggle began.

Since I didn’t want to go back to my previous PCP, I decided to stick with my OB-GYN for my care at the time. She is amazing, which also means she is very busy and hard to get in to see. So, trying to get the balance right on my medication was a nightmare. I would call the office, only to be told that the next available appointment was in three months and that I could talk to a nurse. Then I would report my symptoms to a nurse, who would tell me she’d talk to the doctor. Then she’d call me back, of course when I was dealing with the baby and wasn’t near the phone, then we’d play phone tag a few times, and finally I would be told by the nurse to bump up my dosage, and that was that. After doing this a few times, I just felt defeated.

All the while, I was struggling with not making enough milk and trying to supplement with fenugreek to increase my milk supply. I started wondering if the fenugreek might be causing my anxiety. So, I resorted to something I hate – I consulted Google. It seemed a few other women had the same question, but with no real answer. I felt confused as ever, still anxious as hell, and unable to get in to see a doctor that would actually help me.

I started to really feel helpless. I now understood why so many people feel lost when trying to navigate any sort of health issue. It’s so hard to get the answers and the care you need in a timely manner. Waiting 3 months to get an appointment for a real problem I’m having now? And having a nurse keep increasing my medication without actually talking to me? That’s unacceptable.

I tried experimenting with stopping the fenugreek, bumping my medication up, taking it back down. Nothing seemed to help. All the while feeling anxious, helpless, stressed, and eventually depressed about the entire situation. It was affecting not only me, but my family. I felt like I didn’t have the emotional capacity or energy to give my baby or my husband the attention and affection they deserved, which only made me feel worse.

I’ll continue my story about postpartum anxiety and depression in another post, but for now, know that if you’re struggling with any of the feelings I described, you’re not alone. PPA and PPD affect 10-15% of women. You may not even know that’s what it is – a lot of women don’t. But you don’t have to struggle in silence. If you’re feeling off, talk to your doctor, talk to other women, talk to a therapist. It does get better, and getting treatment is so worth it (spoiler alert – I did finally start feeling better). You can’t be the best mom if you’re feeling this way. You have to take care of yourself so you can take care of your family, too.

Written by: Gina Austin

My mom was a good mother. She never got to be a grandmother but I know she would’ve been a great one. 

She went into the nursing home when my firstborn was 2 months old and died when I was 7 months pregnant with my third (and last).

Her later years were complicated by health issues and depression after my father died. But those early years...when I was growing up...those were good years. 

I know she worked for a while when we were in elementary school but she was always there when my sister and I got home. She was the mom who made homemade pizza for the class parties...you could do that back then. She always made box cakes for our birthdays complete with rosettes made from that icing that comes in a tube.  She would watch us play in our above ground pool for hours every summer. She would yell at us when we fought and ignore us at times when she was engrossed in one of her books....I’m pretty sure that’s where I got my love of reading. She was a good mom. She had rough days when we made her crazy...I have them too with my kids. She loved us beyond words and we knew it because she told us often.

She taught my sister and me to live by the golden rule...”Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”.  Her famous mom sayings were “kindness brings kindness”. (this was used most often when my sister and I were beating the snot out of each other) and “life is what you make it”. It sure is. 

_______________________________

Gina is a wife and mama to 3 tiny humans. Her and her family live in sunny SoCal. They enjoy hiking and being in the great outdoors together. To read more from Gina, click here.

 Some similar articles for you:

-"EMPOWERED" by Sarah K.

-"You are Famous" by Jen P. 

To learn more about meditation, click here.

 Written by: Emily McAllister

of @chasingmcallisters

My first pregnancy was a surprise. I was taking birth control, however my inability to take said pill every single day at exactly the same time had finally caught up with me. Initially the pregnancy was quite a shock, but I had always dreamed of becoming a mother, and my partner Mike (who is now my husband), had always dreamed of being a dad. We both got over the surprise-factor pretty quickly, and spent the following months in that pre-baby, surreal honeymoon state, where nothing else seemed to matter other than coming up with baby names and loving on each other.

My pregnancy ailments were pretty standard: morning (aka all-day) sickness for the first 16 weeks, exhaustion and heartburn, which I combated with copious amounts of ice cream and Tums. Being one of the first of my group of friends to get pregnant, there was no one to give me a heads up about what to expect after the baby arrived. And truth be told, even if someone had warned me, my naive-mommy-to-be-has-it-all-figured-out-self probably wouldn’t have heard a word of it, anyway. Pregnancy wasn’t always physically comfortable for me (is it for anyone?), but I was incredibly grateful regardless, and beyond excited about meeting our sweet baby girl.

Birthing day arrived and I planned on it being the best day of my life. I really wanted to go into labor naturally, and luckily was able to have that experience. I wasn’t dilated at all leading up to that day, though, and as the hours wore on, that didn’t change much, which was disheartening. I labored at home for nearly 12 hours, and by the time I was admitted to the hospital my contractions were coming fast and hard, yet my body was still only at 2cm. This was surprising to the nurse, and I was given pitocin and an epidural.

My labor turned out to be longer and more eventful than I could’ve imagined. At around midnight of that first night in the hospital, my baby’s heart rate dropped for an extended period of time, and a team of nurses came rushing in. No one spoke to me as they moved my body swiftly and injected me with something that would not only raise the baby’s heart rate, but mine as well. I never slept that night or the following day. By the time my daughter was born, at 6:18pm the following evening, I had been awake for 36+ hours.

After delivery, I was so delirious that when they transferred us to the maternity ward, I thought I was in a hotel room rather than a hospital. I was concerned about disturbing the ‘front desk’ person, who was actually the on-duty nurse, who had to remind me that tending to me was her job. I don’t know if the exhaustion contributed to the beginning of my postpartum anxiety, but there are certainly better mental states to be in when embarking on motherhood.

The exhaustion never really subsided from that point on. Mike was working and in school full-time at that point. He was home with us for one week and then it was game-on. I’m on the west coast, my family on the east coast, and while I had visitors come for a week here or there, I was alone with the baby most of the time. I was instructed by our pediatrician to stay home for the first 6-8 weeks as a precaution against germs and sickness, and this literally sounded like a death sentence to me. Did he really expect me to not so much as step foot into Target? A cafe? Anywhere for two months? I am a social creature by nature, and while I do love my alone time, I require human interaction to keep my sanity. (Side note: we switched pediatricians not too long after, and I now know that I could have taken his advice with many grains of salt).

I was aware of ‘the baby blues’ and I did my best to curb those feelings on my own by getting outside for walks every day, and trying my hardest to stay on top of keeping our home livable. Everyone insisted I not worry about the piled-up dishes in the sink and the mountainous heaps of unfolded laundry everywhere. But I couldn’t physically or mentally relax in the midst of such disarray, and I had this underlying feeling that I should be able to tend to it all.

As the weeks passed, my overwhelm snowballed. Several times a day I felt like a failure. It was as if I believed that it was my job to prevent my baby from crying. Ever. And when she did cry, it would literally hurt my skin — not because it was annoying, but because it tortured my soul to think that she was sad. (Note: babies cry for a LOT of reasons, and it doesn’t mean that they are sad). Meanwhile, I saw other moms on social media, moms who were out and about with their well-dressed babies who seemed to never cry. I remember one mom posting about the joys of breastfeeding. I legitimately thought she was lying because I was at home struggling to keep my baby awake on the boob, barely pumping enough to freeze, and wondering what the heck was wrong with us. I hated that I was comparing myself and even my newborn to others, but it was like an obsession. It seemed like everyone had this mom-gig figured out except me.

My nervous and unsettled feelings were unrelenting. In any given situation, I was concerned about the worst-case scenario happening. I would imagine myself falling down a flight of stairs while holding my baby. I would constantly check to make sure she was still breathing during her sleep. I was hyper-sensitive to her experiencing the slightest bit of discomfort (the girl probably had the dryest diaper in town).

Eventually, I started to wonder if maybe I was experiencing something a bit more than ‘baby blues’. Postpartum Depression crossed my mind (I had never heard of PPA), but I’d learned that in PPD, women didn’t feel connected to their babies and didn’t want to hold them. (I now know that there are many other manifestations of PPD). That wasn’t how I felt; I felt very connected to my daughter. What I knew was that I wasn’t enjoying motherhood. Sure, this was a time of major transition and upheaval, but I wasn’t supposed to be miserable, right? Then I felt guilty for feeling that way, because I had always wanted to be a mother and here I sort of had it all, yet I was unhappy and lonely. I was stuck in my head almost 100% of the time, constantly criticizing my every move and feeling. It was all-consuming.

I finally reached a breaking point around six weeks postpartum. I had been given a three hour window to take a nap while my mother-in-law watched my baby. I lay in that bed completely exhausted, but unable to fall asleep due to the paranoid and obsessive thoughts that raced around my head. So there I stayed, opening and closing my Facebook app (it was 2011), comparing myself to another mom I knew. The self-talk I was engaged in was cruel, and nothing I would ever dare say to someone else, but I couldn’t turn it off. I also couldn’t stop straining to hear whether my daughter was crying. All these things were swirling around, and I knew I needed to sleep, yet I couldn’t. I felt like a prisoner in my own mind. Finally I became so uncomfortable that I reached out to my Ob/Gyn.

When I finally made that call, I was met with words of sympathy and compassion from the on-duty nurse. She assured me how common this was, and even shared her own experience with PPD / PPA. Just hearing her words provided some much-needed relief. I wasn’t crazy; there was a solution. Eventually I was prescribed Paxil, which was incredibly effective for me at the time. I know people don’t always like to talk about medication, but it is a part of my story. For me, Paxil took away the obsessive thinking. It gave me peace, and made me feel like myself again. It didn’t make my life perfect or stop my baby from crying or waking up in the middle of the night, but it took away the feeling that I was going to DIE when those things happened. I stayed on Paxil for most of my first year of motherhood.

Here’s what I know. Treating PPA or PPD is not one-size-fits-all. Only you know what it is like to be in your body and in your mind. But there is nothing to be ashamed or secretive about, even though it may feel that way when you are in it. What I also know is that there is help available. You do not have to suffer through the first weeks or months or year of motherhood. What I’ve learned from walking through PPA is that it doesn’t define me, or make me a worse mother or human. In fact, quite the opposite. Taking a stand for myself and my mental health made me stronger, more self aware, and has allowed me to take a stand for other mothers — friends of mine, readers of my blog — who are going through similar experiences. I can’t tell you how many people have reached out to share their own stories, hardships and victories.

What was once a place of shame and darkness for me has become one of my greatest assets. Choosing to receive help was incredibly humbling, but ultimately it filled me with compassion and a desire to stand as a source of experience, strength and hope for women who may feel like they don’t have a voice, or who are still living in the perceived shame of PPA.

 Written by: Ashland H.

We just got back home from watching Captain Marvel and I couldn’t help but to immediately sit down and write all my feelings about this movie down. I am going to be completely open and honest and admit to you that there was a part of this movie where I sobbed…and I mean SOBBED!

This movie really got to me on a personal level and inspired me to write this post! With that being said, I am going to attempt to take a deep dive to explain why this movie punched me in the gut. To start off, I just want to say that Carol Danvers is a total BOSS! I mean, even before she becomes Captain Marvel she is independent, in the Air Force and there is no other description besides an overall, kick-ass woman!

 In my opinion, this movie has a HUGE, deeper message that not just every single woman should hear, but every HUMAN on the planet should hear.  I am going to warn you, there are spoilers throughout this post, so if you have not seen the movie and do not want me to spoil some scenes for you, I would suggest bookmarking this page to come back and read it later.

 As mentioned earlier, you find out from the start that Captain Marvel or Carol Danvers is, pretty much, a badass. She is tough, she can fight and from the get-go, you can tell she has a stubborn independence about her.  She starts off on this planet named “Hala” with these humanoid aliens called the “Kree” who make her believe that they have given her these “powers.” You also find out from the beginning that she is constantly told that she is “too emotional,” and that eventually, this will become her downfall.  The Kree inhabiting this planet also threaten to take her power away if she keeps being “too emotional.”

 As the movie progresses, you start to learn about her past prior to her gaining powers and end up finding out that she is actually human and that these powers were something that she absorbed, becoming part of her. There is a pivotal part in the movie where she finds out that this planet Hala that she has lived on, and these people who have always threatened to take her power away have just been lying and brainwashing her into thinking that these powers were “given” to her by them. When in reality, she had the power all along, they were just programing her into thinking that it didn’t belong to her as a way to control her. They also knew that her emotions, which made her human, would cause her to see that the Kree were actually evil and her empathy would kick in to fight for the greater good instead of blind loyalty to them.

That pivotal moment that I mentioned was the moment in the movie where I sobbed. I sobbed because I internalized what she went through. I related and I relived it on the big screen through Captain Marvel herself. In another life, I worked in Corporate America and there was a particular person who told me I was “too emotional” …and upon leaving Corporate America they told me I really never was cut out for it. Now, deep down, I always had felt that I didn’t fit in with the “Corporate America mold” that you are supposed to fit into, but I forced myself into that mold. I tried to push away my emotions, tried to hold back tears at times when I wanted to cry and tried to mimic what I was told you were supposed to become to move your way up the ladder. For years, I tried and I tried hard… I felt like I had to earn this power, achieve a position and keep working towards becoming this unemotional businessperson that cared more about profits than people. I became depressed and I became depressed because I started believing the lie, I tried not to be “too emotional” but no matter how hard I tried, I kept breaking down into emotion.

You see… the lie is all wrong because I don’t think there is such thing as “being cut out for Corporate America”.

I think that there is no Corporate America mold to be cut into. I don’t think you earn power nor do you achieve power… I wholeheartedly believe that you already own power; you were born with it. I think this rat race that we put ourselves in is a lie. I think deep down, we already have what we want.  Some people are emotional, some are quick-witted, some are creative, some are analytical, some are a little weird… and all of it is power. Being “too emotional” is your power; it means you care a lot. Which means you have empathy and that you are ethically minded. The mold doesn’t actually exist in Corporate America; it is a façade. You do not need to fit into the mold to succeed. So, I am going to give that person who told me I was “too emotional” credit. You are right, I am.

The difference between now and then though is that I realized that, that was the power that I had all along. It is what allows me to relate to people in my writing, my art and my communication. It is my compass when making the decision of right and wrong, selfish and selfless. It is my power. Like Dorothy, I got to the end of the yellow brick road clicked my heels and found out I had the power the WHOLE TIME. I was held back too long listening to the lie that this power was actually my weakness.  Leaving Corporate America was my pivot, my Captain Marvel moment… and believe me, I am just getting started.

_________________________________

Ashland is a mom and lifestyle blogger based in Southern California. She worked for years as the event planner at Disneyland and has recently followed her heart and created a space to share her thoughts and dreams with her blog. To learn more about Ashland, click here. You can also follow her on Instagram.