Let's address to elephant in the room

A candid conversation thirteen weeks postpartum in the midst of a transition

Postpartum is by far the HARDEST thing I’ve ever been immersed in. Having a baby is one thing—keeping her alive, feeding her, making sure her needs are met—but nothing prepares you for the mental gymnastics and the bodily changes that follow. I am tired. I can sleep all night and still wake up exhausted. Don’t get me wrong, I love motherhood. But I’m realizing fortitude is built into it.

It’s been a while since you’ve heard from me—whether on Substack or YouTube. Truth is, postpartum depression found me, and I’ve been fighting to hand it its eviction notice. For me, it’s wrapped in the weight of unmet expectations. Sitting in the house for six weeks, anxious about whether you’re “doing it right” while your family is 22 hours away—that’s not for the faint of heart. And in the midst of that, I’ve learned: it’s okay to go back home.

@byjanaecarleeIt’s okay to go back home. When it comes to major life transitions, I’m usually quiet—but God is challenging me to be more transparent as He continues to grace me for detours. Postpartum has humbled me and shown me just how much I need the support of family in this season. Texas was the place I came to establish myself and start my family. But now, I’m sensing the call to return. I share this to encourage someone: obedience doesn’t always mean permanence. Sometimes, God sends you ahead to blaze a trail—and then calls you back to familiar spaces to fulfill a bigger picture. #relatable #transition #postpartum

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Oh—did I mention I had a baby? A beautiful baby girl entered the world sunny-side up after four hours of pushing on Mother’s Day. I labored as if I’d been given Pitocin. Arrived at the hospital 5 cm dilated around 6 a.m., and by 10 a.m., I was ready to push. I almost hemorrhaged from her position and how badly I tore. Forty-five stitches later, she arrived with a head full of hair and a whole lot to say. She talks, okay? And now, at 3 months old, she’s already rolling from her stomach to her back. I can’t keep up—they do grow too fast.

I’m alive to share my story. I’m not a statistic, just as my doctor reassured me I wouldn’t be at the moment I realized how badly I was bleeding. God guided me through and surrounded me with a team who knew exactly what to do. One day soon, I’ll share my full birth story on YouTube—but until then, I’ll write about it here.

As I write this, I’m thirteen weeks postpartum—still holding on and keeping the faith. Some days look brighter than others. I’m learning to rearrange expectations as I give myself fully for the sake of the little one God entrusted to me. It’s here that faith is tested alongside marriage. You either suit up and fight through, or get out of the kitchen because it’s too hot. Me? I only have the option to fight.

The last few years have prepared me for this. I can look back through journals of remembrance and see what God has done—reminding me of what’s still possible in the days ahead. Writing and speaking are my weapons of choice, so I plan to create my way through this season. I can’t promise a specific frequency, but I do ask for your prayers and your willingness to hold me accountable.

To remain idle feels like a direct disrespect to the gifts God has given me. Sometimes the fog is too thick to see through—but encouragement goes a long way.

I encourage you to embrace the discomfort. Don’t gaslight yourself. Be honest—and watch God work. He does show up in the midnight hour.

Until then,
Your friend,
Janae Carlee