Becoming the Support I Once Needed
By Macyn Hinson, Parent Resilience Intern
When I became a mom at 19, I thought I had a pretty good idea of what motherhood was going to look like.
You know…sleep deprivation, diaper blowouts that somehow reached the baby’s neck, Googling “Is this normal?” seventeen times a day, and accepting that my coffee would permanently be room temperature.
Turns out, motherhood had a very different itinerary.
Instead, it handed me preterm labor, postpartum depression, postpartum anxiety, postpartum preeclampsia, a three-month NICU stay, and the unique adventure of trying to survive all of it while living nearly 5,000 miles away from everyone who would’ve happily shown up with casseroles, hugs, or just held the baby so I could shower.
Not exactly what the parenting books advertised.
Paradise Isn’t Always Peaceful
Shortly after getting married, my ex-husband and I packed up our lives and moved to Oahu, Hawaii, where he began his career in the Air Force. We were young, optimistic newlyweds convinced we could figure out adulthood as we went. Hawaii was breathtaking, but military life has a funny way of teaching you that even paradise can feel lonely when everyone you love lives several time zones away. Like so many military families, we quickly became experts at building a life wherever the military dropped a pin on the map.
Pregnancy Plot Twist #1
My first pregnancy was wonderfully uneventful…until 31 weeks.
Out of nowhere, I went into preterm labor.
Thankfully, the medical team stopped my contractions, and my son stayed put until 38 weeks.
Crisis averted. I remember thinking, Okay. That was scary, but we’re good now.
We were, in fact, not good now.
What no one prepared me for wasn’t pregnancy.
It was postpartum.
I developed severe postpartum depression and anxiety, and suddenly the version of motherhood I’d imagined felt completely out of reach. There were days when taking my son for a walk around the neighborhood felt like climbing a mountain. I questioned every decision I made. I convinced myself everyone else had received the parenting instruction manual that somehow got lost in my mail.
Looking back, I can see what was really happening.
I wasn’t failing.
I was struggling.
Those are not the same thing.
Eventually, with support, time, and a whole lot of healing, life slowly became brighter. I laughed again. I found confidence in motherhood. I genuinely believed the hardest part was behind me.
Life smiled politely…and then said, “Actually…”
Pregnancy Plot Twist #2
A few years later, we were stationed in Las Vegas and preparing to welcome our second son.
At 28 weeks pregnant, I noticed he wasn’t moving as much as usual. Every mom hears that little voice that says something feels different. Thankfully, I listened to mine.
Labor and Delivery asked me to come in for monitoring.
The baby looked great.
I did not.
I was actively contracting.
Unlike my first pregnancy, there was no stopping labor this time. My son was breech, my cervix was opening from the top, and within what felt like moments, I was being rushed into an emergency cesarean section.
Everything happened at lightning speed.
One minute I was pregnant.
Next, I was a NICU mom.
When the NICU Becomes Home
Our son was born prematurely and whisked away to the NICU before I had time to process what had just happened.
As if that wasn’t enough excitement for one week, my body decided to throw in postpartum preeclampsia. I was admitted to the ICU while my newborn was upstairs fighting his own tiny battles.
My ex-husband and I found ourselves separated from our son while navigating our own fear, exhaustion, and uncertainty.
And once again, we were doing it without family nearby.
The NICU became our second home.
Days weren’t measured by calendars anymore.
They were measured by oxygen settings, ounces gained, feeding milestones, and whether we got to hear the words every NICU parent dreams about: “He’s making progress.”
The NICU taught me something I don’t think I would’ve learned any other way.
Healing rarely arrives with fireworks.
Most of the time, it sneaks in quietly.
One successful bottle.
One oxygen tube removed.
One extra ounce.
One hopeful conversation.
One ordinary Tuesday that somehow feels a little less impossible than the last.
The Tiny Baby Who Changed Everything
Today, that tiny 28-week fighter is almost three years old.
If you met him today, you would never guess how small he once was or how many hurdles he overcame before coming home. He continues to amaze us every single day.
And somewhere along the way, I realized something else.
Those experiences didn’t just change me.
They quietly changed the direction of my entire life.
Why I Do This Work
Those difficult seasons eventually led me to Perinatal Support Washington and the Parent Resilience team.
During both pregnancies, I learned firsthand just how overwhelming pregnancy, postpartum, and early parenthood can be. I also discovered something incredibly simple yet incredibly powerful.
Sometimes healing begins because someone says, “I hear you.”
Not because they have the perfect advice.
Not because they know exactly what to say.
But because they’re willing to sit beside you while life feels impossibly hard.
During my own darkest moments, I didn’t need someone to fix everything.
I needed someone who could remind me that I wasn’t broken, I wasn’t failing, and I wasn’t alone.
That’s the kind of support I hope to offer every parent I meet.
Full Circle
Today, while completing my Master of Social Work, I have the privilege of serving as a PS-WA Intern. Every conversation reminds me that no two journeys into parenthood look exactly alike.
Some parents are navigating postpartum depression or anxiety.
Some are healing from birth trauma.
Some are enduring infertility or pregnancy loss.
Some unexpectedly find themselves becoming NICU parents.
Others are simply overwhelmed by the enormous identity shift that comes with bringing home a baby.
Whatever brought them here, my hope is simple:
I hope they leave feeling seen.
I hope they leave feeling heard.
I hope they leave believing things can get better.
A Special Place in My Heart
Military families will always hold a special place in my heart.
Frequent moves. Deployments. New healthcare systems. Building communities from scratch every few years. Parenting without grandparents nearby.
Those realities can make pregnancy and postpartum feel even heavier.
I’ve lived that life.
I know what it’s like to desperately wish your mom lived down the street instead of across an ocean or several states away.
I know what it’s like to build a village from strangers.
And I know how life-changing it is when one person chooses to show up.
If There’s One Thing Motherhood Has Taught Me…
It’s this:
Healing almost never happens alone.
It happens through connection.
Through compassion.
Through people who quietly remind us that we don’t have to carry everything by ourselves.
My story isn’t extraordinary because difficult things happened to me.
It’s meaningful because difficult things happen to so many parents, and none of us should have to navigate them in silence.
If sharing my story helps even one parent feel a little less alone, then every hard chapter has become part of something much bigger than myself.
Sometimes the people who make us feel most understood are simply the ones who’ve walked a similar road.
Today, I have the incredible privilege of becoming the support I once desperately needed.
And honestly?
I can’t imagine more meaningful work than that.