You're doing great
And, it's important to ask for help.
This morning, there were tears before 8:30 am — from both my almost-one-year-old and me.
A weekend with wild late nights (we stayed out until 11:00 pm, because we’re rebels) and multiple middle-of-the-night nursing sessions had me running on fumes — a solid 3/10.
As I tried to make coffee, my son clung to my sweatpants, crying to be picked up. My one-handed barista attempt failed because his current phase of “helping” (read: grabbing everything in sight) made it clear: no coffee was happening without a spill.
I set him down, handed him a toy, and microwaved leftover oatmeal. A win — for 42 seconds. He ate four bites of tepid mush (honestly, I couldn’t blame him) before chucking the bowl onto the floor, delighting our Aussie-doodle.
After cleaning up and properly feeding the dog, I tried to get dressed. This involved yanking tiny fingers from the closet door jam and brushing my teeth while bouncing 25 pounds of clingy koala baby in my other arm.
Our typical morning walk was a no-go because (1) it was -20°C, and (2) the fridge was empty, and I refused to order Uber Eats again. Instead, I started chopping vegetables for the easiest lentil curry of all time, hoping my son would entertain himself.
But he wasn’t having it.
Toy after toy, gadget after gadget, cereal box after box — all rejected. He wanted to be held.
And I wanted none of it.
I love this kid more than the earth, moon, and stars. He is my entire heart. But this morning, I needed a break. I was overwhelmed. My mind was spinning with work deadlines, the upcoming Christmas concert, and house chores, and I didn’t want to be a mom.
When my husband got home from teaching, I lasted 0.4 seconds before bursting into tears. The overwhelm and guilt of not being able to handle it all on my own poured out.
Andrew didn’t ask questions. He gave me a long hug, scooped up our protesting koala baby, and took over.
Relief hit instantly. The weight lifted the moment he stepped in, saw what I needed, and made it happen.
Why is it hard to ask for help?
This morning got me thinking about the support we’ll need as we move into toddlerhood while growing a business, running an arts organization, and finishing a doctorate.
Right now, we have an incredible nanny who comes a few days a week for three-hour stretches, but we know it’s a short-term solution. Andrew’s schedule will get less flexible, and we’ll need more full-time childcare.
Daycare has always been an option1, but we’ve avoided it because of the expense, exposure to sickness, and mostly – because we don’t “need” it. I technically can make my own hours and work around my husband’s school schedule, so we don’t really “need” full-time care.
But, if I’m being honest, the true reason we haven’t fully explored the daycare route is much more emotional: it’s hard for me to imagine someone else caring for my son all day long.
The guilt and comparison sounds like:
I should be able to do it on my own.
I shouldn’t spend money on this.
So-and-so balances it all; I should, too.
But here’s the truth: trying to do it all alone has a cost.
My mental health, when self-care drops off the list.
The ability to be present with my son when my mind is on work.
Relationships with my husband and friends, when they get the last scraps of my energy.
The truth about support
In my business, support has long been a non-negotiable. I consistently invest in private mentorship not because I need someone else’s answers but because I thrive when I feel supported.
This time of year, every brand is shouting about their courses, programs, and products:
The $97 masterclass guaranteed to kickstart your sales.
The $997 program to teach you how to launch and scale.
The $9,997 rebrand to position you as *the one and only.*
If one of these is truly what you need — amazing!
But before you buy, ask yourself: is this a quick-fix distraction, like the eight million toys I hurled at my baby this morning to buy 42 seconds for coffee? Or do you need real support — someone who can:
Attune to your needs.
Hold you in a moment of crisis.
Call you back to your power when you can’t.
Spot the magic and strategic gaps you’re missing.
Personalize answers and solutions to your goals.
We’re not meant to move through life—or business—or motherhood alone.
The words I wish I’d spoken to myself this morning:
You’re doing great. And it’s okay important to get the support you need.
With love,
Samara
How I can support you right now:
Private Mentorship – apply for a December or January kickoff.
PS - I want to take a moment to recognize the privilege I have in being able to make choices about childcare. The flexibility in my schedule, the ability to work from home, and the means to explore different options are not things I take for granted. I know that many parents don’t have these choices, and I’m deeply grateful for the circumstances that allow us to navigate this season in the way that works for our family.