Juiciness Mama

When I got pregnant with triplets, life didn’t slow down. It slammed into a wall.

I was throwing up 10–20 times a day. Sometimes food. Mostly empty heaves. So depleted I could barely do anything but scavenge for food, eat, digest, puke, and start over. I was deep in the final round of interviews for a role I’d been chasing for months. I withdrew.

That was the start of what has now been the longest 3.5 years of my life.

I had no idea what I was in for. The energy it took to grow three humans: 30 fingers, 30 toes, and everything in between. The energy it took to raise them to the wonderful, terrifying age of three. The toll it took on my body, my mind, my marriage. And I cannot say it loudly enough: I had no idea.

Here’s the math of triplets. There has never been a day in three years when the kids haven’t had at least two adults with them at all times. One human cannot feed, burp, change, play, and rock three babies to sleep around the clock. It isn’t heroism, it’s physics. And I refused to be the mom “managing” one while quietly neglecting the other two. So I stayed home. Full-time. With a full-time nanny.

And it nearly killed me.

Some days, a part of me did die: that vibrant, ambitious, career-driven woman who’d built her identity in her 20s and 30s on being a girl boss. I had built a business from scratch. Landed my dream job at a Fortune 500. Coached hundreds of people into bigger versions of themselves. And now I was “just” being a mom.

I was devastated. Hurt. Livid. In actual pain. I had a mountain of misdirected rage at my husband for still getting to work while I burned my peak career years on the playmat. I was resentful in ways I’m not proud of and won’t pretend I wasn’t.

It took me a long time to get over it. I’m still integrating it.

But here’s what I’ve learned. And if you’re reading this as a driven woman trying to figure out who the hell you are now that there’s a baby in the picture, take this in.

1. You’re allowed to retire your old values.

Before kids, one of my top values was freedom. That value walked out the door the day they were born, and white-knuckling it would have made me miserable. So I picked new ones: presence, joy, family, balance.

You don’t have to honor the version of yourself who didn’t know what she was about to become. Let her go. Pick values that fit the woman you actually are now.

2. You have a right to grieve the life you thought you were going to have.

This one was big for me. Being a triplet mom wasn’t my plan. I wanted to be a more “typical” mom (like there is such a thing lol) which included a career, the things I loved, the version of motherhood I’d pictured. I got none of it in those first two years.

Triplet moms don’t say, “Hey honey, I’m going to grab a massage while you take the baby.” You can’t because you literally need two adults for three infants. You don’t get the quiet stroller-and-coffee mommy date, because if one wakes up screaming, all three do, and your nervous system is detonating in stereo.

If you’re heading back to work and grieving the version of motherhood you imagined, the maternity leave you didn’t get to savor, the bond you thought would feel different, the marriage that suddenly looks unrecognizable, then grieve it. Out loud. Scream. Cry. Write it in your journal and hire a therapist or coach to help you integrate. The life you imagined deserves a funeral. You cannot build the new one while you’re still trying to resurrect the old one.

3. You have to learn to work with your guilt; not wait for it to go away.

Yes, yes, fill your cup first, blah blah blah. But here’s the truth: we are wired, culturally or biologically, to put everyone else first. We are born care-givers. We are just f*cking female. So when we finally do put ourselves first, we feel so much guilt that we can’t actually enjoy the thing. We sit at the spa wondering if the nanny remembered the snack pouch (or worse, in my case, whether she’s one psychotic break away from strangling one of the kids. Morbid, I know). We go to dinner with friends and check the phone every six minutes. Then we feel guilty about feeling guilty, and the whole thing is a mess.

Stop waiting to feel guilt-free. That day is not coming.

The work is to feel the guilt and go anyway. Take the meeting. Take the trip. Take the promotion. Let the guilt come along for the ride — she just doesn’t get to drive.

Here’s the thing, mama.

You are allowed to be a great mom AND a woman who wants more than that. Those are not in conflict. The conflict is the story we keep telling ourselves that they are.

So mourn the old you. Pick your new values. Take your guilt by the hand and bring her with you: to the office, the boardroom, the dinner reservation, and to your girls’ night out.

The version of you on the other side of this is going to be unrecognizable, in the best way. But she only gets to exist if you take time to honor the old version and create a new one that is aligned to this season of your life.

You got this mama!