I remember the exact moment I became resentful of my family.

I was home with my newborn baby and my husband had gone back to work. It was me and her—alone for the first time since she was born.

I had left my teaching job to attempt to work full time in network marketing a few years prior. I had dreams of starting my own business and coaching company. I wanted more time freedom and the ability to make my own hours around my family and what actually mattered to us.

And here I was, lying on the floor of our playroom with my two-month-old, sobbing my eyes out.

I was covered in spit up (most likely from the day before), couldn’t remember the last time I showered, and that fuzz on my teeth reminded me that I hadn’t brushed them yet today. Surviving on a few hours of sleep, I watched my husband leave to go to work and thought, What about me?

How was I supposed to take care of my kids (my stepson at this point was nine years old) when my husband was at work? When was I supposed to have time to get back to work? What about those mounds of laundry eyeing me up from the corner? Would I ever have time to start the business I dreamed of having? Heck, I didn’t even know when I’d be able to shower without the baby crying and me panicking.

Is this what motherhood was supposed to be like?