This one is for the mom who keeps going even when she has no energy left, when she feels like she is at the end of her rope.
Not the new mom who is still figuring out diapers and feeds.
This is the mom, a few years in.
The one with a five or six-year-old who has school forms to sign, lunches to pack, activities to manage, homework battles to face, and a child who now has their own thoughts, beautiful emotions, and many moments that need you.
The mom who is supposed to be “used to it” by now.
But instead, she feels tired in a way that scares her a little, that makes her wonder if she will ever feel rested again, if she will ever feel in control again, and it leaves her quietly discouraged.
There is a kind of tiredness you can sleep off.
And there is a kind of tiredness that stays in your bones.
The second one is the one I want to talk about.
For many of us, it does not show up right away in the newborn months. It creeps in later.
When your baby is not a baby anymore.
When the world has quietly decided that you should be “back to normal.”
Except you are not.
You wake up already exhausted.
Your shoulders are tense before you even get out of bed.
Your brain feels foggy.
You snap faster.
You feel guilty right after.
But you still keep going.
Part of what you feel is emotional and mental.
Part of it is physiological.
Research on maternal mental health shows that 1 in 5 mothers will experience a mental health condition like anxiety or depression during the perinatal period, and that symptoms can last up to three years if they are not treated.
And it does not stop there.
A large study in JAMA Internal Medicine looked at more than 198,000 mothers of children aged 0 to 17 and found that the percentage of mothers who rated their mental health as “excellent” dropped from 38% in 2016 to 26% in 2023.
During the same period, those who reported “fair or poor” mental health rose from 5.5% to 8.5%, a relative increase of more than 60 percent.
So if, a few years into motherhood, you feel more drained and less like yourself than you expected, that is not a personal failure. It is part of a bigger pattern of mothers whose health is slowly being pulled apart by chronic stress, lack of support, and constant demands.
There is a term researchers use now: parental burnout.
It’s not just “being tired.” It is described as intense exhaustion related to parenting, emotional distancing from their children, and a loss of pleasure and efficacy in the parental role. A large study of more than 17,000 parents across 42 countries found that at least 5 percent of parents meet criteria for parental burnout, and in some countries the rate is much higher.
Five percent might sound small, but think about it this way: in a room of twenty parents at a school pickup, at least one is likely burned out to the point of risk.
And even if you are not at that severe point, you might be somewhere on that path.
That is why it matters to notice.
For many of the women I work with, there is a shift that happens after the newborn fog lifts and their child is no longer a baby. People stop asking how they are sleeping. They stop checking in on how they are really doing.
Life moves into routines.
School schedules.
Packing snacks.
Drop-offs and pick-ups.
Activities and birthday parties.
From the outside, it finally looks like they have it “together.”
But inside, they are still holding everything.
The emotional weight.
The planning.
The mental checklists.
The invisible work of noticing everyone’s needs before they even speak.
No one tells them that you can lose yourself in motherhood slowly, years after the baby stage. Not with one big moment, but with hundreds of small ones where they choose everyone else first.
Many of them tell me about days when the child is finally at school, the house is quiet, and instead of feeling peaceful, they just feel empty.
Too tired to enjoy the silence.
Too numb to know what they want to do with it.
Even then, they open their laptop, answer emails, prep meals, do laundry, and organize the next day.
Their body whispers, “please slow down” and their brain answers, “not now.”
It is not just you.
A recent survey in the United States found that 40 percent of parents feel more stress during the school year than in summer, mainly because of school routines, homework, and work–life balance. Among those parents, mothers were more likely than fathers to report increased stress and to worry about their child’s mental health.
So when you feel more tense during school mornings or more drained in the evenings, you are living what many parents live.
The difference is, you might be blaming yourself for not handling it better.
You might not collapse.
You might not “look” burned out from the outside.
Your body speaks more quietly at first.
It might sound like:
It is not dramatic. It is just a slow, steady disconnect from yourself.
Here is the hardest part.
Most of the time, you cannot just drop everything.
The kids still need to be dropped off.
Meals still need to be cooked.
Bills still need to be paid.
Homework still needs to be checked.
Your body may be begging for rest, but the structure of your life is not built for stopping.
So you do what so many mothers do.
You push through.
You say “I am fine” when you are not.
You tell yourself, “Other mothers handle more than this, I should be able to cope.”
Bit by bit, you believe that your worth is measured by how much you can carry without breaking.
We like to think we can outsmart our bodies.
We cannot.
When we ignore the signs for too long, the consequences show up somewhere.
Research on maternal mental health shows that 75 percent of women with maternal mental health conditions remain untreated, which increases the risk of long-term impacts on mothers, babies, and families.
Other research connects parental burnout with increased sleep problems, somatic complaints, and even higher risk of neglectful or harsh parenting when the burnout becomes severe. Source:
That does not mean you are a bad parent.
It means that pushing yourself past your limits has a cost.
On your health.
On your patience.
On your relationships.
When you are burned out, your partner often gets what is left of you.
The part that is tired.
Short-tempered.
Touched out.
Not in the mood.
If you have ever looked at your spouse and thought, “I miss us, but I am too tired to do anything about it,” you are not alone.
When most of your energy goes to the kids, your partner can start to feel less like a lover and more like a co-worker or roommate.
Conversations become about logistics.
Who is picking up who?
What time is the appointment?
What we need from the grocery store.
Intimacy does not disappear all at once. It fades.
Not because the love is gone, but because the bandwidth is.
So let’s say it out loud.
You can love your children and feel burned out.
You can be grateful for your life and still feel overwhelmed by it.
You can want to be close to your partner and still feel like you have nothing left to give at the end of the day.
None of that makes you ungrateful.
None of that makes you a bad mom or a bad partner.
It makes you human in a life that has asked a lot of you for a long time.
I am not going to tell you to wake up at 5 a.m. to journal, meditate, and work out while the house sleeps.
If you are already exhausted, that will not save you. It will empty you more.
Instead, I want to talk about small changes that respect where you are.
Most mothers do not get full days off.
But they might get ten minutes.
Micro-rest means using small pockets of time on purpose:
It will not solve everything.
But it tells your nervous system, “You are allowed to stop for a moment.”
In my own journey, things started to shift when I stopped pretending I was just “tired” and started saying the real words.
Overwhelmed.
Lonely.
Angry.
Numb.
Naming feelings does not fix them, but it stops them from owning you in silence.
You can write them down.
Say them out loud in the shower.
Share them with a friend or therapist if you have one.
You do not have to make them pretty. You just have to make them honest.
You do not have to be the mom who bakes for every school event.
You do not have to sign up for every activity.
You do not have to respond to every message right away.
Choose one area of your life where you can consciously lower the bar:
Your worth is not tied to how much you can fit into a week.
“Let me know if you need anything” is vague.
Most people do better with clear, simple tasks.
Ask your partner, a family member, or a friend for one specific thing:
It might feel uncomfortable at first.
But you are not meant to carry every piece of this alone.
Rebuilding your connection does not have to look like fancy date nights.
Especially when you are both overwhelmed and tired.
Here are some gentle starting points.
Choose a time where you are less likely to be interrupted.
Then ask each other two questions:
Listen without fixing.
It is about understanding, not solving everything in one talk.
This can be as simple as:
It is not about the length of time. It is about the intention.
We are partners, not just co-managers of our children.
Sometimes intimacy feels impossible because no one is saying the truth.
You might be thinking, “I am too tired for sex, but I still want closeness.”
Your partner might be thinking, “I miss you, but I do not want to pressure you.”
You can say:
“I still want to feel close to you. Tonight, I only have energy for cuddling and talking, not more. Is that okay?”
Most of the time, naming the limit is less hurtful than pretending you do not care.
Sometimes burnout, sadness, or numbness are part of something bigger, like depression or anxiety.
If you notice:
Please reach out for professional help where you live.
A doctor, therapist, or mental health provider can help you understand what is happening and guide you through it.
You are not weak for needing support. You are wise to reach for it.
I created my coaching for women because I know what it feels like to stay in survival mode for too long.
In my one to one coaching work, we look at:
We use tools like:
If you want to explore whether this kind of support is right for you, you can read more here:
https://sandrinelavoiefilion.com/wellness-for-women/
If your body has been whispering “slow down” and your life has been answering “not yet,” I want you to know this:
You are not lazy for feeling tired.
You are not dramatic for feeling overwhelmed.
You are not broken for needing rest.
You are a human being who has carried a lot, for a long time.
Your body speaks in symptoms when it does not feel heard in words.
Listening to it is not a luxury. It is how you stay here, present, and alive in your own life.
You are allowed to pause.
You are allowed to need support.
You are allowed to rebuild, one small choice at a time.
And if you feel like you cannot do it alone anymore, I am here.
No spam. Just real support to help you heal, reset, and feel like yourself again.
