🌙 When Sleep Feels Like a Luxury

— A Note from a Tired but Trying Mother

People often say, “Sleep when the baby sleeps.”
But what if you're still nursing a baby and raising a spirited 5-year-old?
What if the house doesn’t pause when you need to breathe?
What if your mind, though exhausted, still runs laps around worries and mental lists?

This is my reality right now — and maybe it’s yours too.

I'm learning that rest doesn’t always look like 8 uninterrupted hours.
Sometimes it’s:

• 20 minutes of closing my eyes while the baby naps on my chest

• Lying in silence even if I don’t fall asleep

• Whispering dhikr in the dark when anxiety tries to steal my calm

That counts too.

🧸 Juggling Two Night Routines

Balancing the needs of a baby and a 5-year-old is a dance I’m still learning.
So now, I start with the older one — we share a little story, say our night prayers, and exchange sleepy whispers. Then I move to the baby. Sometimes I nurse while lying down, letting my body melt into the bed even if just for a moment.

🕯️ Small Rituals, Big Impact

My wind-down ritual is nothing fancy. Just warm water on my face. A calming balm. A whispered prayer:

“Ya Allah, jagakanlah anak-anakku ketika aku tidak mampu membuka mata. Lindungilah mereka, dan tenangkan hatiku malam ini.”

It’s not perfection. It’s presence.

💭 Letting Go of the Guilt

The hardest part? Not feeling guilty when I fall short.
When I scroll instead of sleep.
When I get frustrated.
When I question if I’m doing enough.

But here’s what I keep reminding myself:

“Sleep disruptions don’t make you a bad mum.
Not knowing how to balance it all doesn’t make you weak.
You are living two seasons at once — and that’s incredibly brave.”

So to all the tired mothers like me:
You're not behind. You're human.
You're not broken. You're doing your best.

And some nights, that is more than enough. 🌿

📍Dear Heart, You’re Doing Better Than You Think

— A Letter for the Nights You Feel Invisible

Dear Heart,

I see you.
Even when no one else seems to.
Even when the world rushes past your quiet ache and overlooks your silent strength.

You wake up every day and try.
You smile through exhaustion, give even when you feel empty, and carry the weight of worries you rarely speak of. That kind of bravery? It’s rare. And it deserves to be honoured.

I know there are days where you feel like you're drowning in your own thoughts — like no one truly understands how tired you are of being "strong."
I know what it’s like to lie in bed and wonder, “When will it feel lighter?”
And still… you rise again.
That is not weakness. That is grace.

Please don’t be so hard on yourself. Healing is not linear. Some days, you’ll bloom. Other days, you’ll just breathe. Both are progress. Both are enough.

And if no one has told you today:
You are allowed to rest.
You are allowed to feel.
You are allowed to not have all the answers.

Allah sees your heart. He knows your effort. He hears even the du’a you whisper with your eyes closed and lips trembling. So lean into that knowing. Let it hold you when nothing else can.

You are doing better than you think.
And you are never alone — not even for a moment.

With gentleness,
— Me
💫

Dear Me, It’s Okay to Feel Lost Sometimes

— A Letter to the Version of Me That’s Still Trying

Dear Me,

I know you're tired.
Not just the kind of tired that sleep can fix — but the kind that settles in your chest, quietly, making everything feel heavier than it should.

You've been holding yourself together while trying to hold the world around you too. You smile, because that's what everyone expects. You keep moving, because stopping feels like surrender. But the truth is… you don’t have to have it all figured out right now.

It’s okay if you're not sure where you're heading.
It’s okay if the light feels dim today.
It’s okay if all you can manage is breathing through the next few hours.

Lost doesn’t mean broken.
It means you’re in between.
Between who you were and who you're becoming.
And that space — though confusing — is sacred. It’s the soil of transformation.

So breathe, dear heart.
Pause when you need to.
Cry if the tears ask to fall.
There is no shame in feeling deeply. There is only strength in facing yourself with honesty.

And remember this:
You are not behind.
You are not failing.
You are simply unfolding.
Slowly. Quietly. Beautifully.

With grace and love,
— Me
✨

Somewhere Between Mama and Me

There’s something I’ve been holding inside for a while — something soft, a little raw, and hard to put into words. I think many mothers feel it, but not many say it out loud. So today, I’m choosing to be honest — with you, and with myself.

There are days I feel like I’ve disappeared.
Not in a tragic way — just… slowly faded beneath the laundry piles, the meal planning, the soothing, the holding-it-all-together. I am a mother, yes. Gratefully, lovingly, fully. But sometimes, I wonder — where did I go?

There’s a strange ache that comes with loving your child more than your own breath, yet secretly longing for a quiet hour just to hear your own thoughts again.

I miss being me. The girl who loved café hopping, who sang ballads into the silence of her room, who could lie in bed and feel her own feelings without interruption.
Now, I often lie down and search for quotes that say what I can’t — words that reflect a heart tired of being strong all the time.

Motherhood is beautiful, yes. But it’s also lonely in ways no one warns you about. You can be surrounded by laughter and still ache for something unnamed. And that doesn’t make me ungrateful. It just makes me human.

This isn’t a complaint. It’s just me — letting myself say the quiet parts out loud.
Because somewhere between Mama and Me, I know there’s space for both.
I just need help finding my way back to her.

If you’ve ever felt this too — know that you’re not alone. We’re all trying to hold space for the many versions of ourselves. And maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to not have it all figured out yet.

“I’m still learning how to be everything for someone else without forgetting I am someone too.”

With love,
— Iffie