This Stage of Life? It’s Hard Too.

There was a time in my life, early into parenthood, that I found myself at the mercy of this new identity as “mom.” I was grasping for a better understanding of what I was feeling and experiencing and I stumbled upon a blog post that ended up being one of the most validating pieces of literature for me during that stage of life - it was titled: This Stage of Life? It’s Hard. I found myself reading it over and over and over, because I felt seen and not as alone anymore in the experience! I remember often thinking, if there is someone out there who wrote a blog about this, I most certainly can’t be the only one with all these same thoughts!

And now…as I navigate, and see so many other women navigating, another stage of life that is not often talked about - I find myself searching for that same validation and indication that we are not alone in our experience. I kept coming up short, so I decided to just write my version of my favorite, most comforting, blog and allow it to reflect this new stage of life! Enjoy!

This Stage of Life? It’s Hard Too.

I was never warned about this part.

Sure, people talk about the baby years. The toddler tantrums. The endless snacks and sleepless nights and how you’ll lose yourself in motherhood. And I believed them. I lived it. I nodded along with all the posts and memes and moms at Target in leggings with wild hair and tired eyes.

But now I’m here - mid-forties. Out of diapers and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Into driver's permits, career pivots, group texts about aging parents, and a body that feels… different. Not bad. Just different. And you know what? This part is hard, too.

It’s a quieter hard. A less visible, more internal kind of hard.

It’s the holding space for everyone else’s growth while you’re quietly wondering if you’re shrinking. Your kids need more emotional support, but less of your presence. Your partner’s career might be thriving - or not. Your own job might finally be hitting a stride - or feeling a little off. And your parents are aging in ways you weren’t ready for.

You’re doing all the things. You’re the steady one. You know how to order takeout and file insurance claims and pack snacks and schedule appointments and notice when someone’s not quite okay. You’ve figured out how to manage your hormones and your household. But you’re also the one silently carrying the weight of all that noticing. All that responsibility.

And here’s the kicker: people assume you’re fine. Because you look fine. Because you can still show up with mascara on and remember what time practice starts and get your kids to say please and thank you. But inside?

You’re tired.

You’re questioning.

You’re trying to figure out who you are now that you’re not wiping noses or staying up with midnight feedings. Now that the urgency has shifted to long-term guidance and the calendar is packed with deadlines and orthodontist appointments and school events. Now that your body is changing and your patience has worn thinner and your dreams whisper in the quiet moments, “Hey, remember me?”

You want to care for yourself, but you’re not even sure where to start. And truthfully? You want someone to see you in this stage. To say, “Hey. I know this part is hard, too.” Not because you’re drowning - but because you’re carrying so much.”

So here it is. This is me saying it.

This stage is hard.

It’s hard to feel invisible when you’ve never worked harder to hold everything together.

It’s hard to want more for yourself and feel guilty for even thinking it.

It’s hard to make peace with your body when every ad and algorithm suggests you should “bounce back” to something that doesn’t even exist anymore.

It’s hard to show up every day as the safe place for others when you’re not sure where your own safe place is.

But this stage?

It’s also beautiful.

Because your friendships run deep. Your laughter has history behind it. You’re grounded in ways you never were before. You know how to read a room, how to pivot when life demands it, how to forgive yourself a little faster.

You’re softer. Wiser. Sharper. And maybe -just maybe - this is where you start choosing yourself again.

So if you’re in this place with me… wondering if it’s just you… feeling the pull between who you’ve been and who you’re still becoming… let me say it clearly:

You are not alone.

This stage is hard.

And it’s worth honoring.

Even if no one warned us about it.