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My 17 Diapers

We’ve already established that I’m chronically online and love my little think pieces fueled by being chronically online. Recently, a mom on TikTok was completely torn to shreds when she made a video about having 17 diapers lying around her house. They’ve even dubbed her the ‘17 diapers mom.’

Yeah neh.

Do I think 17 diapers is a lot and quite concerning? Absolutely. But let me tell you something—postpartum looks different for everyone. Yes, there are similarities, that’s how moms relate to one another. But I’m positive that everyone with a baby has had their own ‘17 diapers’ moment.

If you are the rare individual who was lucky enough to not struggle by yourself, good for you. And I say that with all sincerity because you are lucky as hell.

When you are alone, taking care of a baby…you don’t even have to be physically alone (for example, single married women). If you have more than one child to care for, something or someone is going to get the short end of the stick. There will be neglect.

Since my daughter was born, I’ve always struggled with being functional during those night feeds. On top of that, Hiccup was a cluster feeder. Every 10-15 minutes, she was hungry, which then turned into every hour. So when I had to change diapers, also dealing with C-section headaches and bone-crushing exhaustion, I simply started tossing diapers in the general direction of the bin and tended to them the next day. Eventually, I did that no matter what time of day it was.

At first, I was on top of things, but in hindsight, I was just going through the motions. I don’t know when, but at some point, I just stopped being able to function—especially when Hiccup’s dad left and soon after, my mom. I started eating less, and for a breastfeeding mom, that’s not ideal. I let the baby’s laundry pile up. I got resentful that everything was on my shoulders. I started bathing less often. Don’t even get me started on my dishes and my own laundry.

I’m so grateful for my daughter’s village. I’ll never not sing the praises of my friends. My cousin tried his best on my migraine days or when I had to run to school. Giving credit where it’s due is very important.

My friends would literally come over just so I could rest or bathe. I’m especially grateful for my Tony Stark. I don’t know if my desperation to be anywhere but cooped up in my room was that evident, but we’d go out to eat, go to the mall, or she’d just come chill with us after a couple of margaritas. My friends have all established their roles in Hiccup’s life as more than just caregivers. They love her, and that has kept me together in ways I can’t even express. They also acknowledge that I’m important too.

Once that baby comes out, rarely do people ask a mother how she is in a truly caring way. It’s all about the baby. So when you have people who look you in the eye and ask how they can support you, it brings tears to your eyes. That’s love.

You might be reading this and thinking about how this is exactly why you don’t want kids or that you’ve been dissuaded from having kids. I know there are people out there who resent becoming parents, and I wholeheartedly believe that some should’ve never been parents in the first place. But I just want to make this clear: the people who actually want kids know that their life is going to change. I speak for myself when I say I knew every aspect of my life was going to change, and I was okay with that because I wanted a baby, and I want more than one. And wanting this doesn’t mean I don’t get to complain about the inevitable hardships of keeping a tiny human alive and well, hoping that you won’t be the reason they need therapy one day. I never deluded myself into thinking it would be easy or that I’d be this ‘jack of all trades’ in the motherhood edition. I had to acknowledge that somewhere along the line, I’d mess up. And that’s okay. It does get better. The light at the end of the tunnel is getting more visible as time goes on. We’ll be alright.

Without that support, I don’t think I’d be here. That’s how bad my mental state was—and is on some days. What I appreciate about an online community is that it creates dialogues about these issues that aren’t explored in great detail. Rarely do you see Black women being given the room to be that vulnerable, to speak their truth. We rarely get to fall apart the way our white counterparts do. The slander and judgment would probably be worse than what you’re already experiencing. But we go through what other moms go through, what other women go through. And it’s hard.

Motherhood has humbled me in ways I never anticipated. I remember the first time I bought groceries, I called my mothers and apologized for every time I begged for something and got upset when they said the budget was tight. Because now, I understand. Motherhood is no different. You think you know what you’re walking into, but the reality of it is a different beast altogether. It’s not just humbling—it’s the realization that no matter how prepared you think you are, you’re never fully ready. Something will inevitably go wrong. Sometimes, that something is you.

But here’s what I’m learning—you have to be kinder to yourself. You have to accept that things will slip through the cracks, and that doesn’t make you a bad mother. The fact that you’re showing up, in whatever capacity you can, is a testament to your strength. There will always be those ‘17 diapers’ moments, but instead of tearing yourself apart, it’s about extending grace to yourself. You deserve it. Every mother does.

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