'I’m a psychologist and I still had a breakdown after having my first baby.'

I'm a psychologist and careers expert, but nothing prepared me for the invisible weight of becoming a mother.

When my son was born, I thought I'd be fine. I'd read the books, had the tools, and I'd spent years helping other mothers. I saw myself as resilient and optimistic, but the truth is, I wasn't okay.

The anxiety crept in quietly. A racing heart at 2am. A brain that wouldn't switch off. A gnawing sense I wasn't doing enough.

My son had undiagnosed silent reflux. He screamed for hours. I barely slept. When I raised concerns, I was dismissed. A paediatrician said he was "probably picking up on my Type A energy." I've never felt so unheard.

Watch: Mamamia has launched the WELL podcast to help women feel more supported — in their health, their motherhood, and their everyday life. Post continues below.

Soon, insomnia took over. Panic attacks started. I lost my appetite. I couldn't make simple decisions. I fantasised about getting on a plane to London, alone.

Eventually, friends stepped in and got me the help I needed.

There I was, a mother, a psychologist, sitting in a beige chair opposite a psychiatrist, barely functioning. Utterly unrecognisable to myself.

I left that day with medication to help me sleep and a support plan.

I loved my baby fiercely, but I felt like I was drowning. And I'd had every advantage. What about the women who didn't? It took three years before I felt ready for another child. With my daughter, I leaned out. I paused work, prioritised rest, and felt steadier.

COVID lockdowns intensified everything. My husband was working incredibly hard, often on night shifts. The reality was, I was largely alone with two small kids. We were both doing our best, but the mental and domestic load was constant.

Cracks in our marriage began to show, not through conflict but through disconnection. I had some support, and I know many don't. That's when it hit me: mothers need holding too, not just the babies. How do we bring more meaningful support to those quietly carrying so much?

Years later, I crossed paths by chance with Lucy, who would become my co-founder. Her journey was heartbreakingly different, but it revealed that modern motherhood can be isolating beyond words.

Her second son was stillborn. The silence that followed was deafening. The world moved on while she sat in unthinkable grief, expected to "bounce back."

But grief doesn't bounce. It lingers in empty cribs, missed milestones, and grocery aisles. Lucy was met with platitudes instead of practical support. She felt the absence of a village, the pressure to hold it all together, the impossible weight of doing everything with nothing.

In her grief, Lucy quietly began helping other mothers, folding laundry, prepping meals, and resetting homes. It was exactly what people needed. For others, it was relief. For her, healing. Word spread. More families reached out. She brought others on board. Her efforts grew. It wasn't just help — it was connection and care.

Image: Supplied.

Our stories were different, but we shared one truth: modern parenting can be unsustainably heavy.

It's the invisible load no one claps for. The never-ending laundry. Half-drunk coffees. Dishes in the sink — again. It's night feeds with cracked nipples, smiling through exhaustion, mourning lost freedom, holding it together at the playground while your relationship quietly unravels.

I've heard hundreds of stories from mothers. And still, there's so much silence. Shame for not coping. For not "doing it all." But we were never meant to do it all alone.

I'd often offer psychological tools, but more often, they needed an extra pair of hands so they could shower or nap, the basics that suddenly felt impossible.

Motherhood is full of precious moments. Practical support helps you soak them in — not rush to fold laundry or sterilise bottles.

Together, Lucy and I realised something had to change. No mother should feel alone. We built what we needed, not from strategy but from survival.

That's when Villey was born, an app we created to connect busy families with trusted local helpers.

Lucy and Suzie. Image: Supplied.

A modern take on the village, designed to ease the mental and domestic load. Now, thousands across Australia are using it. Every day, I see the ripple effect: a mother who finally exhales, a helper earning with flexibility — both feeling seen, supported, and no longer alone. 

Life has more laughter and lightness now. We've weathered hard seasons and gained strength we didn't know we had, and now others benefit from our experience.

Because it takes a village. And for many mothers today, that village is missing. Together, we can help rebuild it — one family and one helper at a time.

Suzie Plush is a registered psychologist and careers expert. You can learn more about Villey here.

Feature: Supplied.