how my mental breakdown led to the birth of mikado postpartum

I remember the day like it was yesterday. It was a Thursday in August and Daniel was 6 weeks old. The sleep deprivation, exhaustion, and (what I know now to be) postpartum depression was building. I broke down in the upstairs guest room while Daniel was finally down for a nap. 

My husband, Avery, was there by my side. I was trying my best to articulate my feelings and communicate them to him. He was asking me what I needed. It became very obvious to me that I couldn’t answer that question and it felt like an “oh shit” moment. Oh shit - I am drowning and I don’t know how to ask for help. Oh shit - I don’t even know what I need to help me feel better. Oh shit - I am really struggling and everyone in the world is asking me how much I’m loving being a new mom. Oh shit - it’s only 9AM. 

Here’s the funny thing. I didn’t start to get “my pink back” until Daniel was almost 2 years old. Flamingos lose their famous pink color in their feathers while raising their young due to all the energy and nourishment given from the mother. Yes, I’m aware that getting my pink back has alot to do with a mother’s hormones shifting back to pre-pregnancy. But the delay was more than that. I became a mother alongside a generation that was initiating conversations around self-care, mental health, generational trauma, education on narcissistic parents, and some vulnerability around the challenges of postpartum. Despite all this education, self-reflection, and tools, I still wasn’t able to navigate the postpartum experience. I love my son with every ounce of my being. But so often I felt like I couldn’t do this - this whole mom thing with a smiling face like I’m supposed to feel grateful and see the silver lining to my postpartum depression. 

Yes. Postpartum is hard. Parenthood is hard.  You hear it all your life. But I still felt like no one was able to truly articulate why it was so hard. I was super green and inexperienced with babies by the time Daniel was born. The first diaper I ever changed was Daniel’s. I remember being in the hospital after he was born and I called the nurse because I couldn’t change my son’s own diaper. Her response was “Aw”. She never actually came to help. I ended up figuring it out. Classic mom experience. 

So here I was, having my mental breakdown and I’m wondering, okay but why is this so hard? How do I put this into words?

I think if we were going to actually list all the challenging components of postpartum it would be longer than War and Peace. Some things are just inevitable or outside of our control - like feeding your baby, baby reflux, and the sleepless nights. Some things can be delegated if that’s a possibility - house cleaning, childcare, and grocery delivery. And there are just some things you wish you could delegate, like packing for the first family trip to the east coast for Thanksgiving. I was all over the internet trying to find the most entertaining toys for my 10 month old on the plane. I saw a TikTok about how someone wrapped each toy so it would buy them more time on the flight. (Oh yeah, I actually did that). I researched infant safety on the plane and took time to find the best carseat for the plane. We live in California and so I needed to order a whole new wardrobe for me and for my son to brave the cold weather in New York. We were luckily staying at my in-laws apartment on the Upper West Side and I worked on shipping diapers, wipes, and all the baby-led weaning foods and supplies. I ordered a sound machine, pack and play, and a Slumberpod for the one bedroom apartment. I set up the grocery delivery for our arrival to have milk and breakfast items for Daniel. I ordered snacks and pouches for his flight. I packed his diaper bag and my clothes. I researched the nearby parks, storytimes at the library, and museum hours. I made the reservations for Mother’s Day brunch. I could keep going but I think you get the picture.

I present the Mental Load - the invisible labor that consumes the default parent. In our family, I was the default parent who was also the mother that breastfed. This. This trifecta of the mental load while also recovering from labor and the physicality of breastfeeding was so overwhelming. Fine, labor was over but the recovery and hormonal changes were still happening. Fine, I could’ve given formula but the formula shortage was alive and well at the time. The mental load was honestly the hardest part.

It was a giant umbrella of tasks that felt impossible to delegate. In the example of the family trip packing, it felt like more work to delegate any of it. It would require me to ensure that the person successfully completed the task. How could I trust that they thought of the various options and all the details that a default parent considers? Did they accommodate enough time and wiggle room for errors and delays? My anxiety couldn’t allow me to delegate comfortably. It just felt easier to just do it myself. 

Did I struggle delegating at work? Yes. Did my childhood trauma train me to be hyper independent? Yes. So maybe if you’re the type that’s successful at delegating at work and has really healthy family dynamics, then this might not apply to you. But I feel fairly confident that even the most competent delegators and beloved folks understand the weight of the mental load as the default parent. 

It’s almost like I wanted to clone myself and allow her to be tasked with the mental load. All I needed was a mom that gets it. A mom that listens and understands. Someone that wasn’t going to shame me or make me feel guilty for offloading the responsibility. Someone that wasn’t going to gaslight my struggles with a shrug and a “Well, that’s just the way it is. At least you have Instacart and Amazon!” Someone that took the time to learn my process and routine and had the confidence and competency to deliver. I’m not perfect so I don’t ever dare to expect that from someone else. I just needed someone like me. 

That’s what inspired the creation of Mikado Postpartum. It is a system designed by moms that get it. It is a trusted community where you can delegate your tasks and find a framework to thrive in this challenging period. No shame. No guilt. We welcome your postpartum depression, postpartum anxiety, postpartum rage, and your overstimulated self with open arms (but will actually just keep our hands to ourselves). 

If our country was designed to truly support the postpartum experience or if we had the emotional and physical capacity to build a community on top of the demanding jobs, mental health crisis, inflation and so on, then maybe Mikado Postpartum wouldn’t exist. And honestly, I hope one day, we won’t need Mikado Postpartum anymore. But until then, I am here to help. I am here to listen. You can do this. We can do this.