I thought I had a chronic illness: Spoiler--I just needed more childcare

How capitalism blinds us to the solutions we really need

Hello.

In the last two years, I’ve experienced a level of fatigue and exhaustion so intense and persistent, I thought I had a chronic illness. Consistent afternoon/evening energy crashes. White knuckling my way through too many days to count, forcing myself not to “take to the bed” before dinner. Building resentment towards our toddler and my husband, not to mention an almost obsessive compulsion to figure out what was wrong with me.

Real talk.

I’ve tried everything to feel better. From drinking celery juice every morning, to adding supplements, going gluten-free, talking to my husband about fair play practices in managing our household, therapy, building community, getting my hormones checked, wearing blue light blocking glasses…you get the gist.

I even drove across town to see a chiropractor at 7:30am twice a week for months. And still. I felt irritated. Exhausted. Burned out beyond recognition.

A few weeks ago, it all culminated in a breaking point.

“I quit.” I said, out loud. “I’m done. I don’t want to be a stay-at-home mom anymore,” I finally admitted to my husband and myself.

And then I claimed an even deeper truth—I don’t want to go back to a traditional job yet, either.

I wish I could tell you the relief in my body wasn’t immediate. That the shift wasn’t so dramatic and swift, I didn’t question WHY it took me so long to get here. I wish I could tell you the shame gremlin voices didn’t almost succeed in drowning out my own.

The tale is as old as time.

“Why aren’t you enjoying this more? This is your dream life. Be more grateful.”

“Look at all this money you’re spending, for what? What do you have to show for all this time not spent with your baby?”

“YOU’RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME!!!” (Meaning, both time to spend with little one, AND time to “make it” as an author).

“Look at that happy family. They have FOUR kids, and you can’t even handle one?”

“You have a supportive partner, healthy baby, family, childcare, friends AND you still want more?”

Women being told to want less, take up less space. Conform their bodies to hold everyone else’s desires until there’s no room for their own.

When Noah was born, I decided to stay home for at least three months, then go from there. There were practical and emotional reasons—I’d already ended my contract as a school nurse, I wanted to breastfeed as long as possible, and I’d been told holding my baby was priority number one for the foreseeable future.

And I agreed.

Three months turned into six, then eight, and as we started packing up our three-story house for a cross-country move, I finally asked a friend of a friend to come watch Noah for a few hours during the day so I could organize everything into boxes. I’d also started writing again, and revising my novel, The Pattern Shop, which I began querying in 2023.

When we landed in Chattanooga, just after Noah’s 1st birthday, we had more family support and hired another babysitter to watch Noah in the mornings, three days a week. I ramped up my newsletter and started trying other ways to earn money on the side—workshops, tarot readings, even a stint at a local bakery!

All the while, I never felt like I had enough time. Yet I was scared to ask for more.

How could I spend less time with our son without neglecting him? How could I justify the childcare cost when I was making minimal income with my “hobbies?”

The pressure and guilt placed on mothers (but not fathers) to have a razor focus on their babies in the early years is overwhelming. Almost all of the advice I heard was about soaking up these moments, letting the house be messy, and making sure not to regret this time, no matter how hard or brutal it was on my nervous system.

I'd absorbed messages that full-time childcare was harmful and it was a privilege to stay home with my baby, one I should enjoy at all costs. Even if it meant I was becoming less of a mother and more of a martyr.

Part of my anger is aimed at how effective this programming is. One of my favorite qualities is that I’m very stubborn. As in, I will do what is best for me (mostly) even if it pisses other people off.

Quit my job as an ICU nurse even when my co-workers accused me of abandoning them to travel around the world for a year? Yep.

Buy a 100+ year old home in a sketchy neighborhood I could barely afford that needed extensive repairs and rehab? Check.

Marry my Baby Daddy even though we’d only been dating two months when I got pregnant? Yes, please!

So how did I fall so hard and so deep into the trap of modern motherhood expectations that I literally convinced myself I had a chronic illness before asking for more help with childcare?

I knew things were bad when I came home from an errand one day and didn’t want to get out of the car to go inside.

So, I considered wanting less.

I took different supplements.

Tried radical acceptance.

And…I still felt exhausted and pissed off.

Until my body finally spoke loud enough that I listened.

“I cannot and will not keep doing this,” the anger surged, marking a clear boundary. “It’s time to bet on yourself. To allow your needs, desires, and being to take up more space.”

It was so vehement I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

I’m lucky that my husband and I have the resources to pay for consistent, quality childcare and that I have a partner who supports my creative growth (and doesn’t just see me as a housewife). I’m incredibly grateful that we were able to reach out to Noah’s pre-school to ask if we could transition from half-days (8-12pm) to full days (8am-3pm) starting in September and they said yes.

I know not everyone has access to those resources and choices. But you know what? We should.

Because almost immediately, my evening energy crashes disappeared.

My husband and I started fighting less.

I actually want to hang out with my Noah on the weekends instead of feeling like there’s no reprieve.

I have energy to help with the chaos of bedtime and clean the house.

I started getting more on my to-do list done and building momentum with The Pattern Shop (coming soon!), instead of my brain feeling like scrambled eggs from constant interruptions.

Literally YEARS of stress and struggle alleviated by increasing the amount of reliable, quality, consistent childcare.

It seems so obvious now, it’s embarrassing.

But rather than be embarrassed, I’m going to choose humility. THIS is the level of deeply ingrained messaging around blaming mothers, caregivers, and burned-out humans everywhere for their own failure to keep up with systems that were never designed for their thriving.

THIS is what these systems want us to do—spend more of our money on self-care, wellness products, and literally anything else that will keep us convinced we’re the problem instead of the isolation and lack of childcare resources we face from the nuclear family model.

Mothering under capitalism strips us of essential resources and support networks, all the while convincing us our lack of vitality and aliveness can be solved by a face brightening cream.

What I hope my anger continues to do is remind me of my self-possessed right to advocate for my needs and desires alongside my child’s. This poem by Kelly Grace Thomas reminds us to keep pushing “the loud button of our want” because we never know what doors will finally open, no matter how long we’ve been waiting.

For All Those Who Have Been Waiting

to open the champagne, dusty with
patience. To drink the desert.  Bite
the neck of  someone new.  To quit
the  job,  the man,  the lie you swig
from  every  winter.  The  standstill
traffic   of   excuse.   Tomorrow   is
always so hungry. Sometimes, even
your  own  life  forgets  to  call you
back.   The   sun   sets   somewhere
warmer and teal. Maybe the trick is
believing       enough      to      keep
opening—doors,  prayers, avocados,
arms,    and    elevators.      To keep
pushing  the  loud  button  of want,
until     the     future     becomes    a
dance floor beneath your feet.

—Kelly Grace Thomas

Until next time,
all my Mama Bear rage/protection,
Mariah

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🔖Further Reading on Motherhood/Caregiving/Capitalism

It’s not in the water, it IS the water. These articles provoke, illuminate, and offer solutions for how to exist more whole human-ly and connected under capitalist expectations and limitations.

The consistency trap: why women need to stop living by male biology by Rachel Lawlan

The “Village” Isn’t Supposed to Mean MORE Work For Moms by Elena Bridgers

The Unseen Weight of Parenting—and the Audacity to Set It Down by Erin Miller

Ways we reject “the village” (we say we want) by Kat River

Fair Play didn’t work for me. This did. By Chloe Sladden

And finally, THIS note by ailey jolie struck a chord that’s still ringing.

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