Postpartum When You’re Running on Love and No Sleep

Welcome to Bite Hard - The podcast for the girls who feel everything deeply. 

Episode 4: Postpartum - When You're Running on Love & No Sleep

This episode is for every mum who's ever wondered...

"Why does everyone else seem to be coping better than me?"

Because the truth is... they're probably wondering the exact same thing.

In this episode, I'm opening up about one of the hardest seasons of my life. We talk about sleep deprivation, postpartum mental health, the emotional toll of having a baby with severe reflux, and what it feels like when you're surviving on broken sleep and pure love.

I share the reality of caring for a baby who's in pain, the frustration of not feeling heard, the guilt of trying to split yourself between two children, and how exhaustion can quietly change every part of your life—including your relationship.

We also talk about the parts of postpartum that don't get enough airtime: the loneliness, the comparison, the physical changes no one warns you about, and the moments that are so chaotic you have no choice but to laugh.

This isn't an episode about having all the answers.

It's about reminding you that if you're in the thick of it, you're not failing.

You're surviving.

And sometimes, that's more than enough.

Topics discussed:
• Postpartum mental health
• Sleep deprivation
• Infant reflux
• Parenting a baby who won't sleep
• Mum guilt
• Life with a toddler and a baby
• Relationship changes after children
• Postpartum recovery
• The realities of motherhood
• Finding humour in the hard days

If you're listening while rocking a baby, driving in silence for five minutes of peace, or wondering whether anyone else feels the way you do...

This episode is for you 🤍

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YouTube: @_courtneystubbs

Because life can bite hard sometimes... but you don't have to go through it alone.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Shot of tequila before I say this. Do you want this? Coffee place. Okay. I don't really know how to start this without just being honest. So I'm just gonna say it. This season has been one of the hardest of my life. And even as I say that, I feel this familiar guilt rise up because I have two beautiful children. I love my partner who shows up. He's amazing. I have safety. I have so much to be grateful for. But postpartum doesn't care about gratitude list. Postpartum is raw, it's physical, it's emotional, it's survival. And I think sometimes we're so scared of sounding ungrateful that we don't say how hard it actually is. So we suffer quietly and assume everyone else is coping better than we are. They're not. So grab your coffee, maybe a snack, maybe a big cushion because today we're going dark. I mean, really, the kind of episode where you laugh, you cry, maybe scream a little into your pillow and also feel like maybe you're not completely alone. We're talking postpartum mental health. Babies who scream like tiny banish babe we're talking postpartum mental health. Babies who scream like tiny banshees, hours on end, reflux, exhaustion that makes you makes your soul ache. I literally can't talk because I'm already nervous. And the guilds that comes with loving more than one child, but never feeling like you're doing enough for either. So buckle up. This this is messy, this is real, and yes, it's the kind of episode I'd be saying to my best friend if we were staying up at 2 a.m. with a baby screaming in the background. Welcome to Bite Hard. The nights that strip you back. Let's start from the very beginning. Paxton, my seven-month-old baby, who I swear has enough energy to power a small city, but also scream like he's auditioning for a horror movie every night. It's not like normal newborn crying, no. This is the kind where your heart physically aches because you can hear the pain in him. The reflux, oh my god. He's arching, he cries, screams, vomits. It's constant. And at three months, we were supposed to be hitting a point where babies sleep longer than just two hours, right? Well, jokes on us. One and a half to two hours max, and then back it up again. So let's talk about nights for a minute because nights postpartum are something else. During the day, you can convince yourself you're okay. There's light, there's movement, there are distractions. You can tell yourself I'll cope, I'll nap later. Tonight might be better. But at night, the house goes quiet. Your thoughts get louder, and every emotion feels so much heavier. Paxton has reflux. He is seven months old, and his sleep still hasn't improved. We are exhausted. When your baby cries like that, something switches inside you. Your body doesn't care how tired you are, your brain doesn't care that you're already tried everything. All you can think is fix it, fix it, fix it, make it stop. Help, help him. And when you can't, that helplessness sits in your chest and doesn't leave. A couple of months ago, Jack went away for the weekend for a bucks. So not nice, right? I'm kidding. It was locked in for months, and I'm more than capable to have both kids.

unknown 4:06

Am I though?

SPEAKER_00 4:07

I thought I would. However, I am genuinely traumatized from this weekend. Penelope, a dream. She fully understands that Paxton needs most of my attention, and she independently played so much that weekend more than she ever has. Genuinely the most beautiful little girl, and she has just been incredible since he's been born. She's just very independent. Paxton, on the other hand, God bless him, the poor baby, he's struggling. One morning we saw the pediatrician changed to this reflux medication. Same dose, just higher strength, so there is like less liquid to give him because when we were giving him a really big syringe with the same amount, oh sorry, a little bit more, it he didn't get it all in him, so I don't even know if it was working. So we got a higher dosage, smaller amount. I don't know if that makes sense. I really don't make sense. But the process of giving that medication, regardless to a screaming baby, my gosh, I wouldn't wish that upon. My worst enemy. And the pa the pediatrician also told us to try new formula with the warning he might not like the taste. So now we're back home. The day goes fine, Penelope goes to bed, Jack leaves the weekend away, and the week of the weekend of drama begins. Night one. Paxton, the beautiful little angel, decides to throw a little curveball because that would be so fun whilst mama is on a solo night shift, right? And he decided to wake up every hour. And not just for the first half of the night, but the whole night. Oh, and another fun thing he decided to barely drink any of this new formula. Did the second night go any better? Of course. It did not. Do you know how tired I was? I'm being terrorized for the cutest little baby ever. It's like the most toxic relationship ever. He just smiles and everything's okay, but I'm also like, ah, you know. And do you know what the pediatrician forgot to mention? With starting this new formula, Paxton could not only eat less, but if he did eat less, he would be more irritated and scream more longer and longer and longer and louder and louder and louder than the normal schedule we were used to. My skin literally crawls, reliving this. I need therapy, seriously. Not being heard leading up to even getting this reflux medication has its own trauma. Like we went to doctors more than one. And every time I explained, I tried to stay calm, I tried to be rational, I tried not to sound dramatic. He's in pain. This doesn't feel normal. I know babies cry, but this is different. And every time I heard some version of he'll grow out of it. Reflux is common. Some babies are just unsettled. Thanks for the advice, Karen in the scrubs. But my baby's literally screaming for his life, and I'm losing mind. Common doesn't mean easy. Common doesn't mean manageable. And common doesn't mean you're not allowed to feel like you're drowning. I feel like there's this whole storyline, especially with babies, that doctors for some reason think that when they say it's normal that it's supposed to make you feel better, but it doesn't. It wasn't until we finally saw a pediatrician that I felt like someone actually listened. I felt like someone actually understood, like believed us when I said this isn't right. So we've now changed formulas three times. Three times. We've increased the medication. We're on a new formula recommended by the PEED, and we're still waiting. We're still watching, we're still hoping that this thing and all these things help. And that waiting period, it messes with you because every time he cries, you wonder if it's working. Every time he doesn't sleep, you question everything all over again. With still no solutions to trying to fix the reflux and the reflux medication. We've just stopped it and we've started seeing a chiropractor. When I posted about this on my stories, I was so grateful for all the parents that messaged me. And a lot of them suggested a chiropractor. I personally have never seen a chiropractor, and I've only seen those TikTok videos where they just make those really dramatic cracking sounds. So I was really nervous for Paxton to get worked on. But that's where we're at now. We're trying a chiropractor. And we've had two nights over the last month where he woke up only twice, and we thought, holy shit, we're here. It's finally going to get better. This is an actual joke. Because Paxson just turns back around to that four to five wake-ups a night, and this poor child, like, it doesn't understand what's going on. And what else are we supposed to do? The doctors say there's nothing wrong and he is normal. If you're a parent, that experience the same thing. Please reach out and send me any information or help because we are genuinely drowning. The sleep deparation, it's not just being tired. Paxton, seven months old, and he still doesn't sleep longer than an hour and a half, maybe two hours on a good stretch. And I know babies wake up. I've done this before. But this kind of broken sleep does something so different to you, especially when it's not improving. You never feel fully rested. Your body never switches off. You live in this constant state of alertness. And the sleep deprivation, it's just, it isn't just tiredness, it's emotional erosion. You cry more easily, you feel overwhelmed by such small things, you feel disconnected from yourself, your partner, your kids. Sometimes I don't even feel sad. I just feel empty. Like there's nothing left in the tank. When I say that a moment of silence is totally life-changing than ever before, those moments where I'm in the car by myself, super rare, might I add. Gosh, the peace I feel with no noise is magical. I don't even listen to music in the car, so I can just have these moments of silence. The world is silent. Well, kind of. While the outside world is quiet, my mind is literally racing. This has always been my mind, but with kids, it's like tenfold. And I'm just thinking about what I need to do for the kids when I get home. I think this is just like life as a parent, right? Respectively, I want to say that having a child that doesn't sleep compared to having a child that does sleep, the experience of motherhood, it is so different. I don't want to offend anyone, but I feel like I can say this because I had that these experiences with Penelope and Paxton were so different. Penelope slept, and I would I feel bad saying this, but like I enjoyed it a lot more. But with Paxton, with it being quite difficult, I'm finding myself not enjoying the small moments as much as I did the first. And I know you're not supposed to compare, but it naturally happens, right? So yeah, if you're gonna be grateful for anything today and your child sleeps, be grateful for that. I'm so fucking jealous. The comparison that you, you know, swore you wouldn't make is something I don't want to admit, but I think it matters. Penelope was easy. She fed well, she slept well, she slept anywhere on the floor when she was too tired, in the pram, super easy, in the car, like no worries. And she settled. And I know you're not supposed to compare your children, I know that. But comparison doesn't ask for permission, it just sneaks into your mind when you're so fucking exhausted. It shows up in those quiet thoughts. Why was that so different? What am I doing wrong this time? Why does it feel so much hotter? And then the guilt hits because Paxton isn't doing anything wrong. It's taken me a long time to realize this, but neither am I. But postpartum doesn't care about logic. It's fueled on exhaustion and self-doubt. And you know, there's more guilt around even being split in two. Having a baby and a toddler feels like being emotionally split in half. Like when I'm with Paxton, I'm trying to settle him. I feel guilty that Penelope isn't getting all of me. When I'm with Penelope, playing, reading, laughing, I then feel guilty that Paxton is crying. Someone always needs me. And I always feel like I'm failing someone. And like Penelope doesn't understand why mum can't play with her all the time. Paxton doesn't understand why his tummy hurts, why he's so uncomfortable, why he's upset. He's just this poor little baby needing us all the time. And I'm standing in the middle trying to hold it together, trying not to cry in front of either of them. And I'm not saying I'm trying to hide my emotions from them, but I think sometimes when you're trying to hold it all together, you don't want to cry sometimes. The postpartum depression doesn't always look like you think. Postpartum mental health isn't just a buzzword. It's dark nights that don't leave sometimes. The guilt, the fear, the feeling that maybe you're not good enough. It's it's real and it's heavy. And the worst part, you feel like you have to pretend to be okay because everyone else is surviving. But here's me saying you're not alone. It's okay to admit it. It's okay to cry. It's okay to say I can't today. Postpartum depression doesn't always look like not loving your baby. And I was very lucky not to experience this with Penelope. Don't get me wrong, I 100% got the baby blues, and I was like, holy moly. This is a lot. My old life is definitely long gone. But with Paxton, I've definitely had a lot stronger wave of emotions than postpartum depression and being like hopeless because it's so hard and not improving, and the lack of sleep just really gets to you in every part of your life. In a weird way, the lack of sleep has started to feel more manageable because it's been such a long time, like seven months, but it doesn't take away the hopelessness feeling of is this ever gonna get better? I still love my kids. Sometimes I just it looks like dreading bedtime, crying in the shower, feeling numb instead of sad, missing your old life, the baby blues, and hating yourself for missing it because you have such beautiful children. Sometimes it's not sadness, it's heaviness. A weight that sits on your chest from the moment you wake up. And the hardest part, you still show up, you still feed them, you still cuddle them. So everyone assumes you're wine. It's not like I'm not showing signs of being defeated or needing help. It's not like I'm at 3 pm and I'm on my fourth coffee of the day. Like that's my every single day. I never understood growing up why my parents drinked so much coffee, and maybe I only noticed this as I got older, and maybe we got harder and all different ways. But coffee is like water, feels my fucking life. And then holy cow. Do you know why I think no one honestly talks about postpartum? Because I genuinely think it would actually change a lot of women's minds on even having children. And I'm not saying this is me because I have friends that are like so on the fence about it and they don't even have a clue what it's actually like. You don't even feel yourself for one to two years. Like that's fucking wild. And don't even get me started on what I'm about to say. Maybe I'll lead into it. Firstly, when I was pregnant, I couldn't trust a cough, a sneeze, or even a vomit. And if you don't know what I'm alluding at, well, honestly, every time I would cough, sneeze or vomit, I would literally pee my pants. Sometimes like a cute little whoopsie, but sometimes, especially when I was vomiting, the floodgates were open. Your girl was peeing all over the floor. It was a mess. I was a mess. Both my mouth and my vag were evacuating everything everywhere. Oh my gosh, I hated being pregnant. So that was my warm-up to something I'm afraid to admit, but honestly, I wish someone had told me sooner. I didn't experience this postpartum after Penelope. This incident or multiple incidents happened after Paxton was born. Why did no one tell me that after pregnancy I couldn't always trust a fart? Why did no one tell me that I would now literally shit myself? Not a cute whoopsie at a at home accident in public. Not once, not twice, but three times in public. What the actual fuck? I think I had another three times at home, but I was at home, still sucked, still gross, but you know, I was at home. I was I'm safe. My poor butthole literally never saw this shit. Actual shit happened. Two times for the exact details because TMI, but we're here now, so I might as well tell you what actually happened. Two times I was on a walk, luckily with Jack, both these times, but I farted. So I thought. So I thought wrong. The fart both times turned into actual shit running down my legs. One of the times, bless my dad, they were visiting from the Gold Coast, and I was with my parents on this walk, and the fart to shit happened. And luckily we had a towel. I wrapped it around me, ran to the toilet, which was super close. Thank God. I took my pants off, and my dad washed the crap off me in the shower. The poor, traumatized sweet man. Like, I can't imagine he signed up for this. You can't do it as a parent, but like, fuck, right? Planning or having baby number two. I will let you know now. Just know you might shoot yourself in public. And when you tell the doctor about it, they say you never guess. It's normal. Anyways, I said what I said. Luckily, these incidents happened only six times, I think. I guess I three times only in public, trying to stay positive. And it finally stopped happening four months postpartum. I will add, yes, I was living in actual fear and I avoided leaving the house for obvious reasons. I'm sorry for over sharing. This is a lot of TMI, but that's me, and that is what this type of podcast is gonna be. And I genuinely am just gonna say things that I wish people had told me. Just I'm not saying that knowing about it can prevent it, but knowing about it, I don't know, I could have been wearing a fucking diaper still. I would know when leaving the house to put a diaper on. And if you don't know this postpartum, you wear diapers for the leakage of blood you have after you have a baby. I would have got better pads, better diapers to hold la actual shit, you know? Mamas, please don't be afraid to reach out and tell me this has also happened to you because genuinely it would probably definitely help me sleep better at night because this still is just traumatized me. I think postpartum there is a lot of love under pressure, not just with your children, but the season has been hard on my relationship with Jack. Not because we don't love each other, we do, but because we are so exhausted. We miss each other. I see him all day because we're very lucky to work at home, unless he's got a photo shoot. But I literally see him and I miss him because we're just, you know, so far apart with doing different things, working kids, living. You know, I miss laughing all the time because we just would make each other laugh because we had nothing else to worry about. I miss lying in bed talking about nothing, watching a movie in silence, not worried about the kids waking up. Because now our conversations are logistics, feeds, medications, sleep windows. Who's more tired? Which honestly is the worst conversation to have. And I would recommend stop having this conversation because we really did have to just stop talking about being tired because it just became this competition and don't do it. We're literally ships passing in the night. One of us is holding a baby, or sometimes Penelope's going through the sleep regression at the moment, or whatever it is, and she just wants Jack to be lying next to her to fall asleep, which is super beautiful. It was super cute at the start. Now it's like really hard because I'm doing Paxon on my own at night times. He's with Penelope. We used to have this hour where we'd come to bed together and be out of cuddle and regroup and be like, holy fuck, that was another hard day. But you know, we we don't have that at this current point of time. And it's really hurting my emotions, my soul. I just don't feel myself when I don't get to regroup with the love of my life. And yeah, it's really hard on our relationship. And sometimes I grieve us. Not because we're broken, but because this season is fucking relentless. Jack, bless him, he's amazing. But let's be honest, our relationship is and has gotten strained. There's no fun us time to deep conversations over wine at 10 p.m. when we're actually awake and sane. It's like, oh hey, I see you across the kitchen while I try to pump and feed and console a screaming baby or screaming toddler. How romantic. You know, I miss him, I miss us, but then I see him stepping up, you know, carrying Paxton around at 2 a.m. or sleeping with Penelope in her bed so she can fall asleep. So I can sleep for two hours. And it's really nice when he shows up and he's so amazing with the kids. And you know, if he's not with Penelope during the night, he steps in and he takes Paxton and lets me sleep for two hours. And he's really good at it naturally, which is amazing, but it hurts my feelings when I'm not able to soothe the child and I give it to him, and he does it so like naturally. But in saying that, it's definitely you never can tell he's gonna be able to soothe Paxton in particular because it's just hit or miss. So we're like constantly rotating. And don't get me wrong, we would normally have that hour I was talking about in bed most days, but as if both kids sleep and at the moment that's not happening because I would cherish that time and the cuddles and yeah, that hour go that hour gets me through a lot of tough moments, and I look forward to this time when it comes back or comes more regularly and the kids are sleeping. I think there's a really big guilt spiral. There's guilt everywhere in postpartum. Guilt for not enjoying it, guilt for wishing it away, guilt for wanting it to be easier, and then guilt for feeling guilty. It's exhausting. I feel like as a mum, your brain is constantly thinking, stressing, planning what's happening next, and everything like that. But like the exhaustion of like the guilt is like a whole nother fucking level of brain power or lack of brain power because you're so tired. The small victories and humor and chaos, but it's not all despair. I have to admit, some nights are slightly less hellish. Paxton Wom nap for two hours instead of one and a half. Shocker. But I sometimes get a hot shower. I think I get to drink a cup of hot coffee. Jack makes a joke, Penelope laughs at nothing, and I catch myself laughing through the chaos. Like literally, sometimes all you can do is laugh. Imagine me trying to console a screaming baby while my toddler is throwing a toy at my head, and I'm trying to text Jack to come save me if he's at like a freaking photo shoot or somewhere and it's 2 a.m. It's like a sitcom nobody asked for. I think humor is survival, breathing is survival, and you're holding your babies even when it hurts and it's exhausting, and that's survival too. You you're surviving, and somehow you find those tiny moments of joy keep you going. And to the mum listening, if you're listening and you're a mom and your baby screams, and you're exhausted, and your guilt is not and your guilt is in your brain like crazy. And I see you, I understand. You're not failing, you are doing the hardest job on earth, and that's enough. You don't need to compare to anyone. Your baby, your friend's baby, Instagram babies, you're doing enough. And don't get me wrong, I'm not gonna fucking lie to you guys. I have been there, I did it with my pregnancy, I compared to other people's pregnancies online, and I just thought I was the only one suffering with a really bad pregnancy until I opened up and realized a lot of women are not having great pregnancies. And then postpartum. I think with Penelope, I got super lucky and I just thought, you know, I'm just a little bit tired. It's a lot compared to, you know, not having a kid. But then I sit here and I feel this guilt of like going online and people asking me about how my journey was with Penelope, and I'm just like, yeah, she sleeps through the night, it's all good, and I'm still tired, and I'm thinking, you know, wow, that's relatable, but fuck me. Having Paxton and not sleeping, the level of tiredness is so different. It's so much harder. It's so much harder on motherhood and like trying to stay positive. I have to remind myself, and that's why I'm reminding anyone else listening who's a parent, that you don't want to compare to other people because it does nothing but damage your situation that's already hard enough and you are doing enough. Every feed, every cuddle, every tiny attempt to keep it together, it counts. And every tiny time you keep it together, you're gonna get stronger and stronger and stronger, and eventually, hopefully, your kid will improve in whatever part of their life there might be lacking. And every time you survive a night that feels endless, it's a win. You are enough, you know. You've fucking done it. Even when it doesn't feel like it or feel like you're able to, and you seriously just want to tap out and run away and not talk to anyone for the rest of your life. I don't know. I have such moments like that. Like I had this massive crash out a couple of days ago. No, not a couple of days, literally two days ago, and Jack was at a photo shoot, and I had both the kids by myself. And it was a really nice day to begin. We went outside, we sung songs. Paxton's now starting to like songs. So when I sing them to Penelope, he also enjoys it as well, which is great. Because it's like entertaining two kids at once, which has not happened until literally two days ago. So the day was really nice and Paxton slept good. He let me put him in the cot in the daytime, which I never do. I let him sleep on me normally, but I had no other choice because Penelope is like knocking at the door crying, going, Mom, Mom, Mom, and I'm like, you know, but the day went great. The day went pretty good. But when it hits 3 p.m., every day I literally crash, not crash out, I just my energy is just non-existent. Like I'm so freaking tired. And I jokingly say to Jack that school damaged me in that way. Like every time after 3 p.m., I'm exhausted and I blame school. If you aren't in Australia, school finishes at 3 pm. But this crash out when I hit 3 p.m., I was like, and I feel claustrophobic. Like I'm stuck in a room with two kids, and I I just needed my own time. I just needed silence. I didn't want to be talked to. I didn't want to be hearing screaming, crying, I don't want anyone touching me. Like I love my kids so much, and I would never change my life ever. But you have these moments of realization of like, holy fuck, I'm doing this for like another 20 years, right? Which is scary and it's such a stressful claustrophobic feeling. I don't know. I don't know if anyone else feels like this, or if it's that same claustrophobic feel, I can only talk about how I feel in these moments. And I was also on my period, so that crash out I blame my period for. But it's a really big commitment. It's a really big life change that I don't I think people like jokingly say like it's gonna be really different, but it's not like you never know until you're in it. Postpartum depression is real, and it doesn't make you weak, it makes you human. It makes you a warrior. And please hear me. Please keep repeating this to yourself because I have. It helps me survive. And I hope it can help you too. But you're not bailing, you're not weak, you are not broken. This is hard, objectively, relentlessly, unfairly hard. I don't have a neat ending. We're still in it. Paxton is still struggling, we're still struggling, sleep is still so broken. But I'm holding on to quiet hope because that's all we can do, right? Hope that it will get easier. Hope that his tummy does settle. Hope that one day soon we'll sleep again, and then until then, we survive. Feed by feed, night by night. Alright, my loves. I'll leave it there for today. I hope this episode makes you feel seen, understood, and maybe even a little lighter in your heart or more knowledge on maybe what motherhood could be like for you. Because that was the point. You don't need to love every moment, you don't need to be grateful through the pain. Sometimes it's just hard. And if today all you did was keep your baby safe, that is enough. I'm with you. You are not alone, and this season will not last forever. And if you're still here, thank you for listening truly. Thank you for sitting with me in this. In the messy, tired, heavy parts that don't get wrapped up neatly or get spoken about enough. If this episode brought things up to you, I'm hope you know you don't need to rush yourself back into being okay. You're allowed to feel it. You're allowed to sit in it, and you're allowed to take this season one breath at a time because that is what I'm doing. And if you're listening to this with a baby on you right now, just take a second to soften your shoulders, unclench your jaw. My teeth are always so sore because I'm constantly stressed and clenching my jaw and biting my teeth. So try, you know, release anything and everything. Breathe out slowly. You are doing more than enough. Even on the days it doesn't feel like it. And if no one has told you this today, I see you. I believe you, and you're not imagining how hard this is. We're gonna keep talking about things like this here, honestly, gently, without pretending motherhood is anything else than what it really is the messy, the heavy, the beautiful, the brutal, all at once. Until next time, be kind to yourself. Rest where you can, if you can, and remember this is a season, not a life sentence. I'm holding you in this. Bye.