Three months and one week into motherhood, and I've officially survived my first emergency room scare.

We finally had my daughter's neurology appointment -- the one I've been anxiously anticipating since the mysterious spasms and freezing episodes started. I walked in bracing myself for the word seizures. I had Googled myself into a rabbit hole of rare diagnoses, and I was terrified.

But here's the good news: the doctor doesn't believe she's ever had a seizure. He wasn't even concerned enough to pursue additional neurological testing. Instead, he brought up something I had never heard of: Sandifer's syndrome -- a rare condition often linked to acid reflux in infants, where episodes of stiffening, crying, and odd posturing follow feedings.

What led him there?

The pattern. The spasms came right after bottle feeds, and strangely enough, swaddling her would immediately soothe her. That response gave him more clarity than I had in weeks of spiraling and worrying. His advice: keep her upright longer after feeds, and follow the pediatrician's suggestion to mix a bit of baby cereal into her milk -- yes, even though she's only just over 3 months old. Apparently, desperate reflux calls for early interventions.

And just like that, a small part of me unclenched. I could breathe again.

Welcome to the emotional tug-of-war that is being a mom.

One moment, I'm panicking in the ER because I'm convinced something's terribly wrong. The next, I'm laughing because my daughter is trying to shove her entire fist -- and my nose -- into her mouth.

She's blossoming.

She's happy.

She's vocal.

She's absolutely hilarious.

And yet, I find myself lying awake some nights already dreading teething. I know it'll be uncomfortable for her, and I just hope I can be the soft place she lands in those moments of discomfort.

Here's the raw truth: I am exhausted. But I'm okay.

I'm working part-time for a small startup, doing a few hours a day of content writing, while juggling my daughter's feeds, naps, laundry, two very needy (but loving) dogs, and somehow making sure my husband also feels cared for.

Add to that my commitment to writing here -- on Medium -- not just for passion, but as an income stream. Because yes, I do get paid to write these updates. And yes, I ask for help -- financially and otherwise -- because I am a writer, and this is part of how I survive.

And I say that unapologetically.

To the people who ask me why I don't "just lean on my village" -- here's your answer (again):

I don't have one.

I'm not particularly close to my family. My husband's family isn't tight-knit either, and we live hours (and hours) away from both. My mother-in-law does what she can while juggling her own health, and I'm grateful for that. But there is no revolving door of aunties and cousins and childhood best friends bringing casseroles or folding laundry or watching the baby while I nap.

It's me. It's my husband. It's us. And most days, that's all we've got.

The surprising therapy I didn't know I needed?

A stroller, two dogs, and six miles.

Every morning, I walk. Sometimes in silence. Sometimes to the rhythm of my thoughts pounding louder than my feet. I started during pregnancy, when two-hour walks felt like a small rebellion against feeling helpless. These days, they take about an hour -- progress I cling to like a badge of resilience.

I take the dogs. I take the baby. I take the chaos. And somehow, I return home a little more like myself.

But here's the thing I'm finally ready to say out loud:

I have always been a writer. But I've never written like this.

Before Medium, I kept it surface-level. Glossy. Digestible. Detached. You wouldn't have known a thing about my real life -- my fears, my heartbreak, my fights to get out of bed -- until now. And that's tragic, because this -- this messy, overwhelming, beautiful, fragile journey of motherhood and survival and reinvention -- is the most honest I've ever been.

And the most connected I've ever felt.

To my readers, thank you.

To those who message me asking for updates, who celebrate my daughter's milestones, who remind me that I'm not screaming into a void -- thank you. You are not just strangers on the internet. You are part of the village I didn't know I could build, one story at a time.

You've reminded me that I'm still me. A mom, yes. But also a creator. A woman. A writer.

And I'm not done telling my story. Not even close.

I also want to say an enormous thank you to everyone who has purchased something from my registry -- especially diapers. You have no idea how much that has helped. Diapers are not glamorous, but they are the single most necessary thing in my life right now, and your generosity has been a literal lifesaver. I can't thank you enough for making sure my baby is taken care of in such a tangible, practical way.

If you've ever felt alone in motherhood, if you've ever Googled until your eyes blurred, if you've ever wondered if you're doing enough -- welcome.

You're seen.

You're not broken.

You're just human.

And if writing is your therapy too, lean in.

Because sometimes, the bravest thing we can do isn't asking for help.

It's telling the truth -- even when it's messy.

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UPDATED BIO:

Hi, I'm Fiona -- a writer in the midst of an unexpected chapter.

In April 2024, I lost my job. Since then, my husband and I have been getting by on his modest income as a medical resident. After stepping away from IVF, we were shocked -- and overjoyed -- to find out we were pregnant naturally. While it was the happiest surprise, it also brought new financial stress as we prepared for our growing family.

Then, our baby arrived early -- on April 29th, 2025, instead of the expected due date in late May. With no paid maternity leave and no room in our budget for childcare, I've returned to part-time jobs and writing just a week after giving birth to help cover essentials like groceries, bills, and a few things for our 🌈 miracle baby.

If you'd like to support my writing -- and by extension, our little family -- your kindness would mean the world. Every bit helps: $1, $2, whatever you can give.

💸 Donate here -- Venmo

💸 Donate here -- PayPal

🍼 Baby Registry -- Or if you'd prefer to help more directly, we're also gratefully accepting support through our baby registry -- every burp cloth, diaper and/or bottle goes a long way.

--

This post was previously published on medium.com.

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Photo credit: Toa Heftiba On Unsplash