The In-Between Season: Motherhood, Dementia, Work & Finding My Energy Again

There’s something no one quite prepares you for — the season where you’re standing between two generations. On one side, my son. At the very beginning of life. Learning, growing, adjusting to childminders and nursery, figuring out the world one tiny milestone at a time. On the other side, my dad. Living with dementia. Needing more care, more patience, more of me. And somewhere in the middle is… me. A first-time mum. A daughter. A partner. A professional returning to work. The planner of weekends. The keeper of admin. The quiet project manager of a home renovation.

This is why I’m writing this. Because this season feels big. Because it’s beautiful and exhausting. Because not enough people talk about the in-between — the space where you are nurturing a life just beginning while supporting one slowly changing.

Weekdays are crammed. Work. Drop-offs. Pick-ups. Caregiving. Meals. Messages. Laundry. Life admin. Repeat. And that doesn’t even include the invisible layer — doing all of this on broken sleep. On nights interrupted by teething. On weeks where someone always has a cold or fever. On mornings where you wake up already tired but still have to show up.

Sometimes I feel like I’m constantly moving but not actually getting anything done. The routines we build shift just as we settle into them. Just when I think, “We’ve found our rhythm,” something changes — sleep regressions, nursery transitions, work demands, family health. It’s a constant recalibration.

And yet. In the middle of the chaos, there are moments that stop me. My son reaches for me with open arms. He rambles in his own little language. He leans in for cuddles. And I pause. I give him my full attention. In those seconds, everything else fades. The emails. The to-do list. The renovation plans. The admin I can’t seem to get on top of. It reminds me why I’m doing all of this.

I’m incredibly thankful — for a loving and supportive husband who stands beside me in this juggle, and for my mum, whose endless support holds us up more than she probably realises. This isn’t something I’m doing alone, even on the days it feels heavy. And I’m thankful for my son. He grounds me. His pure love, his open heart, the way he brings joy not just to us but to strangers when we’re out — it shifts my perspective. He makes me see life differently. Slower. Softer. More present.

Sometimes I feel like I’m struggling to get anything done. But when I intentionally prioritise my little family — the one we’ve just created — something changes in me. If I protect a slow Saturday morning. If I choose connection over catching up on emails. If I sit on the floor and play instead of rushing to tick a task off. If I give myself permission not to optimise every minute… My energy spikes. Not because I’ve done less — but because I’ve done what matters most.

There is a different kind of fuel that comes from alignment. From choosing presence. From remembering that this chapter — this messy, beautiful, exhausting chapter — is new and fleeting. Work will always generate more work. Admin will always refill itself. The renovation will take time. But my son will not always be this small. My dad will not always be as he is now. Being in the middle of the life cycle — witnessing the beginning and the end at the same time — changes how you see everything. It forces you to ask: what actually matters?

I’m still finding my feet. Still figuring out systems. Still trying to automate parts of life so I can create more breathing space. Still learning how to give myself grace when the to-do list wins. But I’m also learning this: Sometimes the most productive thing I can do is prioritise my family. Sometimes rest is strategic. Sometimes slowing down is strength.

Sometimes choosing presence over perfection is the real achievement. If you’re a new mum juggling multiple roles, feeling stretched, tired, pulled in every direction — you’re not failing. You’re navigating a deeply complex season. Give yourself grace. Protect your little family. Pause when they reach for you. Reflect often. Decide what’s meaningful to you. This is my in-between season. And I’m learning to honour it.