Postpartum Lighten the Load: Because moms Need Help Getting Stuff Done

Before having kids, I was a middle school social studies teacher. I loved my job. But it was after I lost my first baby at 22 weeks that my classroom became my sanctuary. My sixth-graders were amazing, and their families were so supportive and compassionate. During one of the darkest times of my life, they were the ones who kept me going. Their laughter, their curiosity, and their love for me gave me a reason to keep showing up when I felt like I had nothing left.

Then, in 2009, pregnant again after struggling with infertility, I left my classroom on a Monday, telling my class I’d be back Wednesday because we were trying to flip his stubbornly breech butt. But my son had other plans; he wouldn’t budge, and I ended up opting for C-section that day.

I didn’t return to my classroom for two years. When I finally did, it was only to clean out my things.

The Illusion of Having It Together

I never planned to be a stay-at-home mom. I planned to go back. But everything was so hard. I was so tired. My baby woke every two to three hours for two and a half years. No lie.

I was carrying the full mental, physical, and emotional load of parenting. Because existing on a teacher’s salary isn’t easy, my then-husband, also a teacher, took every extra job he could find—chaperoning dances, coaching, anything for an extra buck.

Looking back, I realize we probably didn’t need all that work. What I really needed was someone else around to help. But when he was home, he wasn’t that helpful anyway, and I was drowning.

I was already battling postpartum anxiety and rage, though I didn’t have names for them at the time. I couldn’t imagine fitting a full-time job—a job I cared about and wanted to do 110%—into my life. So, after two years on hiatus, I cleaned out my classroom and ended my teaching career.

It was also the end of my financial independence. And the end of me stepping outside the world of motherhood. Like I do with everything, I dove 110% into being a mom. I read, researched, and tried to be the best mom on the planet. I ran an attachment parenting support group. I co-slept, breastfed, educated, and explored. Everyone thought I had my shit together. They thought I was fine. But inside, I had no idea who I was anymore outside of my child. I had no hobbies, no interests, and no balance.

All I really wanted was to do all the things I was doing and have a clean house. I wanted to sit on the couch at the end of the day and watch a show with someone who loved and cared for me… and who felt loved and cared for by me. But I never felt cared for.

That resentment grew until it broke us. I’m divorced now. Money is tight. As difficult as this is to admit, especially in today’s climate, I receive state health insurance and SNAP benefits. When I got divorced, I told myself I’d give my placenta encapsulation business a year to see if I could make it work. Up until then, it was a side hustle. It was easy to get work because I was really the only one doing it at the time, and I was deeply embedded in the mom communities online and in real life. The money I was making covered the extras, but it definitely wasn’t enough to support me and my kids.

But I knew I couldn’t go back to teaching. I’d spent years homeschooling, reading about education theory, play, and nature. I couldn’t fit back into the rigid classroom structure. So I committed to making this business work. I gave myself a year. Then another. Every year, I made more than the last. I felt like I was getting there. So even though I wasn’t reaching my goals, I was getting there.

I thought.

Seventeen Years Later: Seeing the Gap

For 17 years now, I have been a birth worker. A doula, a birth educator, a placenta encapsulator, a Fair Play Facilitator, a Bringing Baby Home educator, a Perinatal Mental Health Specialist. The list goes on. I’ve helped hundreds of moms navigate pregnancy, birth, and postpartum. I’ve educated them on breastfeeding, bonding, and the mental load of parenting. I thought I knew what new moms needed.

But I kept seeing the same struggle: Moms were educated, supported, and loved... but still drowning in laundry and dishes. The number one thing I hear from moms, “I need to get stuff done.”

Now, six years since my divorce, my placenta business isn’t cutting it. I’m in do-or-die mode. There are more people processing placentas now. My kids are older (12 and 16), so I’m not in that newborn world anymore. Marketing has become harder. Money has been a real stressor for my entire life, but recently, it’s done serious damage to my mental health.

So, this is it. This is my final shot. If this doesn’t work, I have to go get a traditional full-time job. And I know I can’t go back to the classroom. And I really don’t know what I’ll be able to do that doesn’t land more mental health struggles in my lap. I have serious social discomfort issues; being around large groups drains my energy. I don’t know how I’ll manage the things I manage now while working a rigid, inflexible job. It’s scary as shit.

Finding My Purpose Again

A long time ago, I read that you figure out what you’re meant to do by looking at three things: What are you good at? What do you love doing? What does the world need?

I’ve asked myself this often as I developed new offers over the last few years, but without marketing, nothing ever sticks. I had a bazillion ideas, but no one knew about them, because I suck at marketing.

So, what do I love? The other day, while deep-cleaning my washing machine, I realized: I love doing shit like that. I love cleaning my fridge. I love pulling weeds from my garden. The problem is, I rarely have the time to do it.

And when my babies were little, what did I need? I needed someone to care for my baby while I did those things, or to do those things for me. I didn’t have that. I think that lack of support was a major contributor to my postpartum anxiety and rage—especially as a late-diagnosed neurodivergent woman. I didn’t know I had ADHD or autism then. I look back with loads of regret… I was always smiling in photos, always doing "amazing" things with my kids, but I was never fully present. I was always worried about the to-do list. Always stressed.

What am I good at? I’m good at helping people feel better. I’m really good at cleaning, organizing, and getting shit done on a to-do list when I have the time. I’m not great at remembering birthdays or giving gifts, but I’m the girl you call when you need something. I’ll show up with 180% of my energy and love. I fill in the gaps. I pick up the slack.

And what does the world need? Postpartum anxiety, depression, rage, and other perinatal mental health disorders are real and devastating. At least 20% of moms and 10% of dads suffer from PMHDs. They affect every aspect of your life, not just during the postpartum period, but for years to come. I see in my teenage son how my untreated postpartum anxiety affected him even now.

I want to help other moms avoid that. That’s why I became a birth worker in the first place. I lost a baby because I didn’t have information, didn’t know to question things. I wanted to help other moms avoid that trauma. Now, I want to help other moms manage their postpartum stress.

I realized that sometimes, what a mom needs isn’t another tip sheet. It’s someone to fold the laundry or hold her crying baby so she can enjoy a nice long shower.

Introducing: Postpartum Lighten the Load

I want to show up for moms who are sleep-deprived, overwhelmed, and holding onto their babies because they don’t know where else to put them down. I want to walk into a home that feels chaotic, see the stress in a mom’s eyes, and quietly take some of that weight off her shoulders. By handling the laundry, the dishes, or the errands, I’m not just checking items off a list—I’m giving her back her breath, her peace, and a moment to remember who she is outside of motherhood.

So here’s my new offer. I really hope this one sticks.

This is Postpartum Lighten the Load.