Becoming A New Mom Ft. Summaiya Irfan

This one is a conversation with my dear friend Summaiya Irfan about the beautiful, messy, completely disorienting reality of becoming a new mom. We talk about losing yourself in diapers and feeding schedules and unsolicited advice, and then slowly, quietly, finding yourself again in the smallest pockets of time. It is an honest look at what it takes to keep your identity alive when a tiny human suddenly needs every part of you.

Summaiya and I go way back, to a time when I felt I could barely speak up. I remember I couldn’t even gather the courage to talk to her properly. And then life happened. She got married, and that phase of personal hesitation ended, replaced by a whole new set of questions and routines. It is a story so many of us know: one chapter closes, and a completely different one begins before you feel ready.

The leap into blogging

When Summaiya got married, something shifted. She didn’t have the same avenues to go out and get a job, and that reality hit hard. She told me, “I realized I might not get a chance to do a regular job.” So she started looking for something she could build from home. Writing felt natural, but the self-doubt was loud. She didn’t believe people would listen to her or care what she had to say. Starting that blog became her first real lesson in confidence. It wasn’t about knowing everything; it was about putting herself out there and discovering what she was capable of through the encouragement that came back. The response from people was the fuel she didn’t know she needed.

Finding joy in the smallest wins

We talk a lot about celebrating the big moments, but Summaiya and I connected on something much quieter. She believes so strongly in finding the joy in Choti choti cheezen, the tiniest things. You don’t need a grand celebration to feel alive. It is about spotting those microscopic wins in your day and letting them matter. For me, that mindset is a survival tool. If you wait for the huge, earth-shattering achievements to feel happy, you miss out on the daily science of your own joy. You learn to properly celebrate the tiny gratitudes, and that Thing alone shifts everything.

The reality of a tough pregnancy

Then we step into the heart of it. Summaiya’s pregnancy journey was not the glowing, smooth picture we often see. It was tough. She talked about days when even going to a doctor’s appointment felt like a monumental task. “I would cry at the thought of having to go out,” she shared. The physical difficulty was one layer, but the mental battle was another. She described a feeling of being trapped in a body that wouldn’t cooperate, needing constant distraction just to get through. She leaned on her blogging work through the nausea and exhaustion, using it as a way to keep her mind afloat when everything else felt like sinking. It was survival through creation.

Then came the moment everything changed again. Just as they were navigating this, a family member tested positive during the pandemic. The fear was paralysing. Summaiya remembered just sitting and crying, feeling completely helpless. More than the logistics, it was the emotional weight of caring for a newborn while your support system is shaken. She said plainly, “It was a very difficult time, my health was very affected.” This was not filtered motherhood. This was the raw, unglamorous, exhausting truth of it.

The art of carving out five minutes

After her baby arrived, Summaiya understood something I think every mother needs to hear. She looked at the endless cycle of baby care, house responsibilities, and the noise of other people’s opinions, and she realized she was disappearing. She said, “I understood clearly that I need to give myself some time every single day.” Even five minutes. A stolen moment to write, to breathe, to do one small thing that is just for her. She called it her chill time. This is not selfishness. It is the opposite of selfishness. It is the understanding that a mentally exhausted, unhappy mother cannot sustainably pour into her children. A happy mother packs that quiet contentment into her kids. The guilt that society piles on you for taking a moment to rest needs to be seen for what it is: someone else’s negative energy looking for a place to land.

Drowning out the noise

One of the loudest battles for a new mom is the chorus of advice. “People who had babies thirty years ago will tell you that’s not how it’s done,” Summaiya laughed. She spoke about the constant stream of tips: the baby is hungry, the baby is cold, you’re holding her wrong, you’re not feeding her enough. She made a powerful choice early on. She decided she knew her child. She knew when her baby needed to sleep or eat. She said, “If I had listened to all of that, I would have gone crazy.” She simply turned down the volume. It is a reminder that your mother’s instinct is not a suggestion. It is your compass. You are allowed to trust it, even when it goes against what the loudest voices are saying.

You will function again

For anyone in the thick of it, feeling like you’ve been thrown into a foreign country without a map, Summaiya’s message is a soft landing. You learn. You learn to function as a mother, as a partner, as a woman who still has her own name. The stress and the problem-solving skills develop because you are thrown into the deep end, not in spite of it. She talked about times when she was so overwhelmed she didn’t think she could keep going. But you do. You find a friend who gets it, your own safe person who won’t judge you and who can guide you through the fog. Having just one person whose mindset aligns with yours is a lifeline.

This conversation is a gentle hand on the shoulder of every woman who has felt lost in the first chapter of motherhood. It is permission to not be perfect, to feel the intensity of the pain, and to know that finding yourself again is not a luxury. It is the most important work you will do.