The Forgotten Trimester
I've said it before, and I'll say it again. We should be watching out for women's mental health, particularly between three to nine months postpartum.
And guess what? That's exactly when most of us go back to work after having our babies.
Honestly, I don't know if I've said this before or not, because I'm in the thick of sleep regression myself with my six-month-old. The cognitive fog is real, friends. When you're waking up every hour throughout the night and then expected to show up fully, something has to give—and unfortunately, it's often our wellbeing.
The Forgotten Trimester of Working Motherhood
There's endless preparation for pregnancy, birth, and those initial newborn weeks. Then suddenly, you're thrust back into professional life during what might be the most disorienting phase of early parenthood—when sleep patterns dissolve, developmental leaps accelerate, and your identity as both parent and professional collides in exhausting ways.
This 3-9 month window represents a critical mental health flashpoint that we're not talking about nearly enough. It's when postpartum depression can emerge or deepen. It's when the initial support systems often fade away. It's when many women begin questioning their professional competence as they struggle to function on fragmented sleep while still recovering physically from childbirth.
What makes this period particularly challenging is the expectation that you should be "back to normal" by now. Your baby isn't a newborn anymore, your body has ostensibly healed, and the workplace often expects you to smoothly transition back into your pre-baby productivity. Yet internally, you're navigating perhaps the most intense cognitive and emotional challenges of early parenthood.
When was the last time you tried to make strategic decisions, respond thoughtfully to colleagues, or give a presentation after being woken up every 45-90 minutes? How clear was your thinking? How regulated were your emotions?
Sleep Deprivation is More Than Just Being Tired
People talk about "tiredness" when discussing new parenthood, and I understand the sentiment. But this characterization dramatically understates what's actually happening in your brain and body during prolonged sleep deprivation.
This isn't about being "a little tired." It's a whole-body, whole-mind experience that fundamentally alters how you function.
Sleep deprivation impairs your executive functioning skills—decision-making, emotional regulation, planning, prioritizing—essentially, all the cognitive skills that make you effective at work and at home. Research shows that moderate sleep deprivation produces impairments equivalent to alcohol intoxication. Yet somehow, we expect new parents to perform complex professional tasks while functioning on dramatically interrupted sleep.
Working through sleep regression is a bit tortuous at times. Your brain becomes a browser with 47 tabs open, none of which are loading properly. Simple tasks require enormous mental effort. Complex problems feel insurmountable.
What's especially difficult for high-achieving women is the gap between your expectations of yourself and what's realistically possible during this phase. The internal narrative can be brutal: "Why can't I handle this? I managed multiple projects/clients/deadlines before. What's wrong with me now?"
Nothing is wrong with you. Your brain and body are responding normally to an extraordinarily challenging situation.
Navigating “Sleep Training” is Emotional Labor
Beyond the physical exhaustion lies an often-overlooked aspect of this phase: the emotional and cognitive labor of navigating infant sleep solutions.
The term "sleep training" itself carries such loaded connotations. Should you let your baby cry? For how long? What about gentle methods? What if those don't work? What about co-sleeping—is it safe? Sustainable? What if you have other children? What if you have to be alert for work? What if your partner has different views on the matter?
These aren't just logistical questions—they're deeply emotional ones that touch on your values, your attachment with your child, your relationship with your partner, and your identity as a parent.
Making these decisions while severely sleep-deprived is particularly cruel. You're asked to research options, weigh complex factors, and make values-aligned choices at precisely the moment when your cognitive resources are most depleted.
The emotional toll of watching your baby struggle with sleep—and struggling yourself—while trying to maintain professional composure is immense. Many women I work with describe feeling like they're failing at everything simultaneously: failing their baby by not solving the sleep issues, failing their teams by not being fully present, failing themselves by not finding the perfect solution.
I want to normalize how incredibly difficult this is. There is no perfect solution. There is only what works for your unique family, and finding that path is itself exhausting work.
Every Baby is Different—And That's a Curveball
Here's another complicating factor that's rarely acknowledged: you can't predict or control how your specific baby will sleep, no matter how much you prepare.
Having had the incredible gift (and challenge) of observing three very different sleepers in my own children, I can attest to this firsthand. One of my children found sleep transitions incredibly difficult, waking hourly for months. Another learned to sleep independently with relatively little intervention. Same parents, same general approach, wildly different outcomes.
This unpredictability makes it nearly impossible to plan your professional re-entry effectively. You might have a baby who sleeps relatively well at four months when you return to work, only to hit a wall at six months when sleep regression hits hard. Or you might expect to function on minimal sleep based on friends' experiences, only to discover your particular child's sleep patterns affect you much more intensely.
The unpredictability extends beyond just sleep patterns. Every aspect of development varies between children, creating a constantly shifting landscape of needs and challenges. Just when you think you've figured out a workable system, everything changes.
This variability also means that advice—even well-intentioned suggestions from friends or family—often falls flat. What worked for someone else's baby may be completely ineffective for yours, adding another layer of isolation to an already lonely experience.
What questions might help you navigate this unpredictability? Perhaps: How can I create systems that adapt to changing needs rather than rigid solutions? What support do I need when things inevitably shift again?
Supporting Ourselves and Each Other When We're Maxed Out
The most poignant reality of this phase is captured in what I find myself saying to my own partner: "I need your help, and I don't know how to get the kind of help I need."
When your cognitive load is maxed out, even articulating what support would help becomes another task that exceeds your bandwidth. This creates a painful paradox—you need help most when you're least able to ask for it effectively.
So how do we support ourselves and each other through this challenging phase?
First, we need to recognize that problem-solving isn't always the first step. Sometimes what's needed is co-regulation—simply having someone sit with you in the cognitive and emotional fog without immediately trying to fix it. Before jumping to solutions, consider sharing space: "Can I brain dump? Can we put it all out there before making any specific plan?"
For partners, friends, and colleagues supporting someone in this phase, try asking questions that don't require complex answers:
"Would it help if I took the baby for two hours this weekend so you can nap?"
"Can I order dinner delivery for your family tonight?"
"Would you like me to reschedule this meeting for next week?"
For workplaces, this might mean creating more flexible policies around meeting times, deadlines, and work arrangements for parents of infants. It might mean checking in regularly without adding pressure. It might mean explicitly acknowledging that this phase is challenging and temporary.
For ourselves, it might mean lowering expectations temporarily. It might mean being honest about our limitations. It might mean saying no more often, or asking for extensions, or delegating tasks we'd normally handle ourselves.
What if we approached this phase not as something to power through, but as a legitimate transition deserving of support and accommodation? What if we normalized the cognitive and emotional impacts of sleep disruption as a workplace consideration?
Finding Your Path Through the Fog
The 3-9 month postpartum period represents a perfect storm for working mothers—physical exhaustion, cognitive depletion, emotional complexity, and professional demands all converging at once. Add to this the pressure to make the "right" decisions about infant sleep while your decision-making abilities are compromised, and it's no wonder this phase feels overwhelming.
If you're navigating this challenging terrain right now, I want you to know that your struggle isn't a reflection of your capabilities as a professional or as a parent. It's a normal response to an extraordinarily difficult situation.
There isn't a one-size-fits-all solution because every baby, every parent, and every family is different. What works for one might not work for another. The key is finding approaches that honor your values, meet your family's unique needs, and provide enough support for you to function.
Sometimes that means taking it one day at a time. Sometimes it means making peace with "good enough" for a season. Sometimes it means asking for more help than feels comfortable.
Whether you're experiencing this phase yourself or supporting someone who is, remember that this intense period is temporary, even when it doesn't feel that way. Your worth isn't measured by how well you navigate it, and asking for support isn't a sign of weakness—it's a sign of wisdom.
How Can I Support You?
If you're a working mother navigating the challenging terrain of early parenthood and professional identity, know that you don't have to figure it all out alone. The fog of sleep deprivation makes everything harder, including knowing what kind of support you need.
As someone who specializes in supporting women through these complex career and identity transitions, I create space for you to process, reflect, and find clarity—even when you're not sure what questions to ask or what solutions to seek.
Through coaching, we can explore how to honor both your professional identity and your parenting journey during this challenging phase. We can identify small, manageable adjustments that make space for your current reality while keeping you connected to your longer-term career vision.
Reaching out when you're overwhelmed takes courage. But finding support that meets you exactly where you are—foggy brain, interrupted sentences, uncertain needs and all—can make all the difference.
What's one area where you're feeling completely maxed out right now—and what would it feel like to pause before trying to fix it? Who in your life might be struggling silently with sleep or support needs, and how might you gently check in with them?
I'd love to hear your thoughts, experiences, or questions. And if you're looking for more personalized support during this challenging phase, I'm here to help.
