MÈRE Stories: Savannah DuLong
All I ever wanted was to be a mom. From a young age, I was the caretaker of all my little cousins, constantly dreaming of the day I’d have my own squishy babies. But during graduate school, I was diagnosed with endometriosis and PCOS—the two leading causes of infertility. I had to sit down and have a very serious conversation with my now-husband that I might not be able to have children.
The anxiety and the need to know what our future would hold, was overwhelming.
Fast forward to June 2020—we got married and, much to our surprise, got pregnant the very first month we tried.
The relief I felt seeing those two pink lines was indescribable. I was a pediatric occupational therapist & had spent years caring for little ones.
I thought I was ready.
Our first daughter arrived in April, and with her, my postpartum journey began.
I experienced postpartum anxiety & intrusive thoughts.
She turned out to be a highly sensitive baby who relied heavily on routine to stay regulated. The loss of freedom hit me hard. I had realistic expectations for a typical newborn, but my daughter had almost no flexibility—and to this day, at age four, that hasn’t changed. She’s also 100% a daddy’s girl, which has made it harder for us to build that close, effortless bond I had envisioned.
On top of that, she had torticollis that led to a helmet, severe reflux, and a serious egg allergy. It felt like one thing after another.
When she was nearly two, we welcomed our second daughter.
This time around, I was hopeful. Despite a hemorrhage at birth and the tough recovery that followed, my postpartum experience initially felt lighter—more manageable. I thought maybe I had turned a corner.
But around three months postpartum, everything shifted.
My oldest’s behavior became completely dysregulated. I didn’t recognize it as a regression at first because it hadn’t happened right away.
As the weeks went on, I found myself slipping into a deeper emotional fog.
Depressive symptoms started to creep in. And then came the guilt—guilt over how easily I bonded with my second, this snuggly and easy baby, and how different it felt from the relationship I had with my first.
I couldn’t believe it—this was all I had ever wanted, and yet I felt… yucky. I had everything I dreamed of, and still, I felt like I was drowning.
If you had to summarize your journey in motherhood with all its challenges, how would you describe it now? How have you found a way to reclaim your strength or identity? What have you learned?The word that comes to mind is foundation.
I was completely broken down and then slowly pieced back together. But this time, I came back stronger, with a deeper understanding of who I am.
After my second daughter was born, I started therapy and began to uncover the ways perfectionism and a lack of self-compassion had shaped not only my expectations as a mother, but also how I saw myself. I took a 10-week course on parenting a highly sensitive child, and through that, I realized that I, too, am a highly sensitive person. That insight alone brought so much clarity and softened some of the shame I had been carrying.
More recently, I explored the functional medicine route and discovered I was nutritionally depleted. That knowledge empowered me to shift into a healthier lifestyle—one that truly supports both my body and mind.
I’m still growing, still learning. But I now see motherhood as something that rebuilt me—with a stronger, more intentional foundation than ever before.
What advice or words of encouragement would you give another mom walking through a similar chapter? You can do all the things to learn—read the books, take the courses, go to therapy—but ultimately, it comes down to how you show up for yourself.
I had to get really intentional about my self-care. I didn’t just think about it—I added specific, non-negotiable self-care tasks to my to-do list and made them a priority. I also had to rediscover who I was outside of motherhood and learn how to pour into that version of me, because that’s what allowed me to show up for my girls the way I truly wanted to.
One of the hardest but most important lessons was that progress isn’t linear.
That truth was tough for my perfectionist brain to accept. I used to beat myself up every time I wasn’t the mom I wanted to be, thinking that one bad day—or week—meant I was failing, or that it was never going to get better. But it does get better, give yourself the grace and space to get there.
How has your journey changed you, both in ways you expected and in ways you never could have imagined?At first, I wasn’t sure I even had a story worth telling. I didn’t have one defining moment—no big, dramatic turning point. Instead, my journey was made up of countless small, messy, complex experiences between my two postpartum chapters. It was a little bit of everything. And for a while, that made me feel like maybe it didn’t count.
But over time, I realized that was the story. I didn’t necessarily love everything I uncovered about myself along the way, but I grew more confident in who I am. I’ve always believed knowledge is power, and while I can’t change the parts of me that are deeply ingrained—like being highly sensitive or wrestling with perfectionism—I can recognize them. I can name them. And in doing that, I’ve learned to give myself more grace when my emotions start to spiral.
That insight is ultimately what led me to start The Perinatal OT. I created it to be the support I wish I had—the space for the mom who isn’t necessarily in crisis, but who doesn’t feel like herself. The mom who’s not thriving and can’t quite explain why. The one who’s falling through the cracks because her story isn’t loud or dramatic enough to catch the system’s attention.
I want her to know that her experience still matters. You don’t need a revolutionary or traumatic story to be worthy of care, support, and healing. Those quiet struggles? They’re real. They’re valid. And they deserve to be seen. If I can help even one mom feel more understood, more whole, or more like herself again, then every twist in my own journey was worth it.
— Savannah DuLong
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