Before I became a mom, I thought I had a decent idea of what it would be like. I’d read the books, followed the accounts, stocked the baby gear. I was ready. Or so I thought.

But here’s the thing — nothing truly prepares you for motherhood until you’re in it, 3 days deep into newborn life, covered in spit-up, crying because you forgot what a full night’s sleep feels like.

There’s so much I wish I had known.

I wish I knew that love would hit me like a freight train — not always right away, but deeply and fiercely, in the quiet moments. That it’s okay if bonding isn’t instant. It grows, just like they do.

I wish I knew how lonely it could feel, even when I was never physically alone. That it’s normal to miss your “old self,” and also love your new self fiercely at the same time.

I wish I knew that it’s okay to not love every moment. That the phrase “enjoy every second” is well-meaning, but also wildly unrealistic when you’re rocking a screaming baby at 3 a.m.

I wish I knew how strong I am — how much I could endure on no sleep, with cracked nipples, and a heart stretched to its limit.

But most of all, I wish I knew that it’s okay to ask for help. That you don’t get a trophy for doing it all on your own.

If I could go back, I wouldn’t change the journey. But I’d whisper to that pre-mom version of me: You’ve got this. It won’t be perfect, but it will be powerful. And you’ll never be the same — in the best way.