Why does no one really talk about the sleep deprivation mothers face?

Honestly? It’s one of the hardest, most overlooked parts of motherhood.

Physically.
Mentally.
Emotionally.
It’s utterly exhausting.

Sleep deprivation isn’t cute. It can’t be glossed over with a coffee meme or an “enjoy every moment” quote.
But somehow, we’re expected to accept it. To smile through it.

To just survive it—because it comes wrapped in love.

The Contradiction is Brutal.

The reason you’re awake all night… is someone you love more than anything.

That love keeps you going.

But the cost? It’s high.

Your eyes sting when they open.

Your neck aches.

Your back feels broken.

Your whole body hurts.

Your heart hurts.

You wake up already dreading the day—because you didn’t really sleep.

And you wonder: How am I meant to do this again today?

You try.

You try to eat better.

You try to get outside.

You try to be present, joyful, grateful

But the exhaustion robs you of energy and motivation.

Then comes the guilt.

You beat yourself up for not doing it “better.”

You compare. You doubt. You spiral.

Then the anxiety creeps in as bedtime approaches again.

You fear the night.

You fear what version of yourself will be left by morning.

You try to nap when your baby sleeps—but your brain won’t let you.

You lie there, counting down the minutes until you’ll be needed again.

And you start to feel it:

The change in yourself.

The toll of constantly holding it all together.

The grief for the “you” you barely recognise anymore.

And yet…

You keep going.

Because of love.

But here’s the truth:

Sleep is a basic human need.

We cannot thrive—let alone parent well—without it.

So why do we expect mothers to survive like this for months… or even years?

The exhaustion is real. The mental load is heavy. The loneliness is deafening.

Too often, it’s dismissed.

Minimised.

Romanticised.

Ignored.

It’s time we stop glorifying burnout.

It’s time we stopped normalising sleep deprivation as a rite of passage.

And instead, support mothers properly.

Check in on the new mum.

Hold her baby and her heart.

Let her talk. Let her cry.

Remind her that this season isn’t forever.

And that she is not broken—she’s just exhausted.

Share this with a mum who needs to know she’s not alone.

Let’s start being honest about how hard this is.

Let’s help mothers thrive—not just survive.

If you or someone you know needs more support. I would love to be there for you and you can check out my consultation page for more info about services available here