My First Mother’s Day: From Everest to Engorged Boobs, and Everything In Between

This week, I turned 37. But this year was different.

It was the first time I celebrated a birthday with my own baby in my arms. The kind of surreal that makes you blink a few extra times just to make sure it’s real—and then blink again because your baby spit up on your shirt and, yep, that part’s definitely real. 

And now… Mother’s Day. 

My first official Mother’s Day. It still doesn’t quite feel like I belong in the club—like someone’s going to tap me on the shoulder and say, “Excuse me, ma’am, but you’re actually just babysitting.” And I’d be like, “Oh thank God, because I have no idea what I’m doing.” 

But then Zane looks up at me with those big blue eyes that hold the entire universe, and I realize—no, this is real. I’m a mom. I’m his mom. And nothing has ever felt more terrifying… or more right.

Motherhood: The Crash Course No One Prepares You For

Let’s be real—no number of books, blogs, courses, or unsolicited advice from strangers in the grocery store can prepare you for this wild ride. You hear people say, “There’s no love like the love you have for your child,” and you smile and nod like you understand. 

But you don’t. 

You don’t understand until it hits you like a hormonal freight train at 3 a.m. while you’re half-asleep, covered in milk, and staring at the most perfect human you’ve ever seen. 

You don’t understand until you’re sobbing over baby socks that are too small because HOW is he growing so fast? 

You don’t understand until you’re in it. And then—oh, mama—you understand.

 The Morning Everything Changed

Zane is three months old now. But I want to share something that changed everything for me. When Zane was just two days old—two days—he stopped breathing and went blue. We were awake, thank goodness, when it happened. And then I called 911. 

I won’t go into every detail, but I will tell you this: that morning split my life into “before” and “after.” 

Before, I was overwhelmed and tired and adjusting. After, I was someone who knew—deep in her bones—just how fragile life is. Just how quickly everything can change. 

If we hadn’t been awake… if I’d taken a nap… if, if, if. 

I don’t let myself go there too often. But I do let it remind me—every single day—how lucky I am to hold him, feed him, hear him cry, and kiss his chubby cheeks. Because not everyone gets that chance. And I never take it for granted.

When the Climb Feels Like Everest

I’ve climbed Everest. And I’m telling you—motherhood is harder. 

There’s no oxygen up there? Try changing a diaper while holding a squirming baby with one hand and realizing you’re out of wipes. That’s the real death zone. 

Climbing Everest gave me blisters. Motherhood gave me engorged boobs. I mean, honestly, why does no one talk about that more?! 

You think you’re tough… until you try to breastfeed with a clogged duct, on two hours of sleep, while your baby head-butts you like a tiny rugby player. 

But just like Everest, there’s something deeply rewarding about the struggle. Every painful, messy, chaotic moment adds up to something beautiful: growth. Strength. Perspective. And a love that makes the summit feel like a coffee break.

The Shorts Don’t Fit… And That’s Okay

Can we also talk about the pressure to “bounce back”? 

Listen, I tried to put on a pair of pre-pregnancy shorts the other day. I got them halfway up my thighs before collapsing in laughter. Those shorts didn’t know what hit ‘em. And I didn’t even try the zipper. Let’s not traumatize anyone. 

Here’s the thing: My body grew a human. Then pushed that human out. And now feeds him with milk I literally make from my own body. 

So yeah, the shorts can wait. 

Postpartum isn’t about bouncing back. It’s about moving forward—with a new body, a new mindset, and probably a new wardrobe with a lot more stretchy waistbands.

To the Moms Who Are Struggling

I know this day isn’t easy for everyone. 

Maybe you’ve lost a child. Maybe you’ve lost your own mother. Maybe you’re in the trenches of postpartum depression or navigating infertility. 

If that’s you—I see you. I honor your pain. And I’m sending you a massive virtual hug that lasts longer than a newborn contact nap. 

Grief and joy can exist in the same space. You don’t have to pick one. 

So wherever you are today—celebrating, grieving, surviving, or all of the above—I hope you take a deep breath and remind yourself that you’re doing your best. And that’s more than enough.

What Motherhood Teaches Us About Life

Motherhood is the ultimate crash course in uncertainty. 

You think you’ve got it figured out and then BAM—sleep regression. Teething. Growth spurts. Google-induced panic spirals. 

But the truth is… the quality of our life is directly proportional to the amount of uncertainty we can handle. And if you can learn to ride the waves of motherhood without clinging to perfection, you’ll open yourself up to the magic of it all. 

Because it’s not supposed to be perfect. It’s supposed to be real. 

A Few (Fun and Slightly Unhinged) Tips for Mother’s Day:

• Lower the bar. No, lower. Like, if you’re wearing clean-ish leggings and drank water today? That’s a win.
• Take the picture. Even if your hair is a mess and there’s spit-up on your shirt. One day, that photo will mean everything.
• Let someone else do the dishes. Or just ignore them. They’ll still be there tomorrow.
• Laugh at the chaos. It’s either that or cry into your cold coffee.
• Savor the snuggles. Even if your back hurts and you haven’t peed alone in three days. 

What I’m Most Grateful for This Mother’s Day

This year, I’m grateful for:

 • My little miracle, Zane, who taught me more in three months than I learned in 37 years.

 • My body, for doing the most incredible thing it’s ever done.

 • The Luna Bloom community, where we lift each other up, share the messy moments, and remind one another that we’re not alone.

 • Every mom who’s shown me that love is fierce, messy, hilarious, and unstoppable.  

Final Thoughts (and a Little Reminder From Me to You) 

If this is your first Mother’s Day—welcome to the wildest club you’ll ever join. There’s no rulebook, but there is a lot of heart, grit, and support. 

If you’re in the thick of it—sleepless, unsure, questioning everything—you’re not doing it wrong. You’re just doing motherhood. 

And if this day feels heavy, I hope you give yourself permission to feel all of it. The joy, the grief, the gratitude, the ache. It all belongs. 

This Mother’s Day, I hope you give yourself grace. Celebrate the mom you are, not the one you think you’re supposed to be. She’s already amazing. She’s already enough. 

And maybe—just maybe—put on a fresh pair of stretchy pants, pour yourself that coffee (hot this time, we can dream), and remember that you are loved, appreciated, and absolutely crushing it… even if it doesn’t always feel that way. 

PS: If you need a little support, encouragement, or just want to feel seen—Luna Bloom was made for you. Whether it’s a 5-minute stretch session during nap time or a soothing guided meditation when the chaos is loud, there’s something inside the app to remind you that you matter too. 

So go ahead—take a moment for YOU today. You’ve earned it. 

Happy Mother’s Day, mama. From the bottom of my full, grateful, sleep-deprived heart. 

Love,
Rebecca xx