There’s a moment I keep coming back to. Bags half-packed. My to-do list yelling at me from the kitchen bench. Mental notes whirling—don’t forget the toddler’s snacks, the washing, the keys, the email I never sent. And then: “Mama? Mama? Mama, stop—we going on holiday RIGHT NOW??” I snapped. Not in a big, dramatic way. But the kind of snapping that comes from the thousand tiny things already screaming inside your brain. And then my own voice, too loud for my own ears: “Please STOP asking me!” It’s moments like these that remind me just how overwhelming it can be when motherhood feels too loud. It’s not just the physical noise—it’s the mental noise, the emotional noise, the pressure to hold everything together. And sometimes, even the smallest question can tip everything over.
When Motherhood Feels Too Loud… And You Can’t Think Straight
This isn’t about noise in the usual sense. It’s the non-stop demands, the pressure to respond, the feeling that every part of you is needed right now. It’s the inside noise—the lists, the responsibilities, the invisible load—competing with the outside noise of small voices needing you every second. For me, as an introverted mama with an extroverted toddler, it’s like being pulled in every direction at once. He thrives on movement, noise, constant doing. I crave space, quiet, and calm to reset. That mismatch? It’s exhausting. There are days when motherhood feels too loud, it’s not even the shouting or the chaos—it’s the constant presence. Someone always touching you. Talking to you. Calling your name on repeat. It becomes a full-body overwhelm, and no one really talks about it until you’re already crying in the pantry.
Teaching from Experience: Regulating in Real Life
As an early childhood educator, I know the power of co-regulation. But when overstimulation takes over, even the best intentions feel out of reach. I’ve learned that modelling regulation matters just as much as talking about it. When I kneel down and tell my toddler, “Mama needs a moment to feel calm again”, I’m not only protecting my peace—I’m showing him what emotional awareness looks like. In teaching, we use predictable transitions and visual cues to guide children through their day. At home, I’ve started doing the same. A gentle timer, a visual reminder of “quiet time,” and prepping him with phrases like, “Soon we’ll both take a little pause” gives us both a chance to reset—together. And when I do raise my voice or snap, I always circle back. “That wasn’t fair. Mama got overwhelmed.” Because showing our children that adults get dysregulated too—and repair—is one of the most powerful lessons we can pass on.
The Pressure to Be Present (Even When You’re Maxed Out)
There’s this unspoken rule that to be a “good mum,” you should be engaged and present all the time. But here’s the thing: my toddler doesn’t play on his own. Ever. He’s in a season of full-blown imaginative play. Role play. Pretend kitchens. Talking constantly. It’s relentless dialogue that I’m expected to participate in—and perform well. And while I love his imagination, it’s a lot. It limits my ability to breathe, pause, or even think. Especially when the internal load is already heavy. Even during beautiful days, I still find myself searching for a way to reset. Because when motherhood feels too loud, I lose the ability to show up as the version of me I want to be.
When Overstimulation Takes Over
Overstimulation for me looks like:
- Snapping when I don’t want to.
- Feeling foggy, unproductive, scattered.
- Forgetting basic tasks and spiraling in guilt.
- Feeling ashamed of being so done by 5pm.
But here’s what I’m learning. I don’t need to pretend I’m invincible. When I tell my toddler, “Mama needs a little quiet time so I can be kind again,” I’m not failing—I’m teaching. I’m showing him that quiet is a need, not a luxury. That needing space isn’t rejection. That even mamas get overwhelmed—and that it’s okay to take a pause and come back stronger.
Gentle Strategies That Actually Help
No, I’m not meditating on a mountaintop. I’m just trying to make it through the day with a little grace.
Here’s what’s been helping:
- Naming what’s happening: “I’m feeling overstimulated” is now something I say out loud, even to myself.
- Reading books together: It’s a shared moment of calm that still feels connected.
- Teaching solo play: A work in progress, but I’m helping him find joy in playing independently—so I can sip tea without answering 17 pretend phone calls.
- Apologising and reconnecting: When I do yell or snap, I always circle back. “That wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry. Mama got overwhelmed.” That connection matters more than perfection.
- Using parallel play: Sitting nearby with my own quiet activity (like journaling or folding laundry) while he plays helps reduce pressure while still offering connection—something I used often in the classroom too.
If this sounds familiar, you might also like this evening reset I lean on after long, loud days.
Mama, It’s Okay to Feel This Way
I wish more of us spoke about this. About how when motherhood feels too loud, it can make us feel unkind, overstimulated, or like we’re failing. We’re told to cherish every moment, but how do you cherish the ones that make you want to hide in the bathroom just for a moment of silence? You’re not broken. You’re not failing. You’re human. Even finding ways to rebuild confidence as a mama is hard when your brain never gets to reset. So if the days feel long, the noise feels loud, and your body is begging for a pause—you’re not alone. You don’t have to love every moment. And even on the loudest days, you’re still doing an amazing job.
Let’s Redefine What “Strong” Looks Like
Strength doesn’t mean being unaffected. It means adapting. Teaching. Repairing. It means learning how to embrace the overwhelm without letting it define you. It means admitting that sometimes we need help, and sometimes we need silence more than anything. Some of us don’t have a village, or we’re not sure how to use the one we have. But that doesn’t make us less. It just means we need to redefine support and rethink what our version of “help” looks like.
And to anyone who’s wondering they said it would get easier… but does it? — I see you. And I’m right there with you.
You deserve moments of peace. You deserve to be heard. You deserve to exhale. If you’ve ever felt like motherhood is just… too loud, I hope you leave this space feeling a little lighter. And if you’ve got tips for finding calm in the chaos, come join the conversation in the newsletter. We’re in this together, one deep breath at a time.
When motherhood feels too loud, it’s not weakness to need quiet—it’s wisdom. Even in the chaos, you’re allowed to come back to yourself.
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