a.k.a. What happens when you battle fatigue, your baby cries, and your brain is still at the clinic.

1. My mom was right (again).

When I asked my mom why there’s a gap between me and my little brother, she gave me a knowing smile and said, “You were… a difficult child to raise. I had to take a break and forget before having another one.”

It took her six years, I guess.

I used to laugh that off until I met my own handful, in baby form. Sleep deprivation mixed with joint pain and fatigue is its own brand of enlightenment. Suddenly, I understood why she always looked tired, why she was so protective of my brother and me growing up, and why she still checks on me like I’m five (much to my annoyance at times). I owe her more than a card.

2. Work-life balance is a myth. I prefer “energy budgeting.”

Before motherhood, I was a full-time rheumatologist, occasional perfectionist, and recovering workaholic. After motherhood? Still all those things plus baby snuggler, nap negotiator, and full-time milk factory. I don’t balance my life; I triage it.

Lunch break from 12–1 on clinic days? You’ll find me in my office pumping, eating, finishing notes, and answering messages before the afternoon clinic starts. Some days the charts are signed on time. Other days, they wait. If my patients are cared for and my baby is fed, that’s the rhumb line.

3. Anything above zero is a win.

There are days when “I did yoga” means I stretched while picking up a dropped pacifier. Or when “self-care” means remembering to eat. I used to aim for 60-minute workouts and inbox zero. I was proud of it.

Now, ten minutes of quiet movement between patients feels like luxury.

My new mantra: Did I do something, however small, to support my health today? If yes, I’m calling it a win.

4. I have never loved medication more.

I used to explain biologics to patients in cautious, measured language: “We weigh risks and benefits… consider your goals… monitor closely.”

When I was diagnosed with RA and Sjögren’s, I thought, What kind of crazy plot twist is this?

Now, I say thank you every time I do an injection. Being in remission means I can carry my baby without pain. It means I can be the kind of mom I want to be. For all the potential side effects and lab monitoring, I wouldn’t trade the ability to live fully, for myself or for my daughter.

5. It takes a village and I finally stopped trying to be the entire village.

I used to take pride in doing things solo. Now I understand the magic of Facebook mom groups, grocery delivery to my front door, and amazing daycare teachers. I’ve learned that strong doesn’t mean solo. I am (still) learning to rely on my network more. Letting others in isn’t weakness, it’s wisdom, especially when you’re managing a chronic illness and raising a tiny human.

Happy Mother’s Day

To the women making it work with messy hair, tired hands, and hearts full of fight.

Chronic illness may shape our path, but it doesn’t define our motherhood.

For the Mom with Chronic Illness: 5 Things That Helped Me Most

Whether you’re newly diagnosed, flaring postpartum, or just trying to get through the day. Here are five things that made a real difference for me:

1. Use your phone to track symptoms, but keep it simple.

I don’t journal. I jot a quick note in my calendar: “Fatigue is worse today,” “More stiffness this morning.” Patterns emerge fast when you don’t overthink it. If you don’t know where to start, you can use my Symptoms Tracker as a guide.

2. Pump, rest, or email: pick one.

Multitasking feels productive, but energy is currency when you’re flaring. Sometimes you have to be strategically mediocre at certain things. If I chose to pump and rest, I stopped feeling guilty about the unanswered inbox.

3. Ask for help before it becomes an emergency.

Whether it’s a partner, friend, or daycare teacher, delegate early. There are days when I tell my husband, “I am so tired and need to go to bed… at 6PM.” It may sound strange to others, but in our household, it’s normal. Chronic illness forces you to plan for unpredictability.

4. Find your “above zero” habit.

Mine is a 5-minute stretch while my baby plays. Some days, that’s all I get and that’s enough.

5. Guilt is heavy. Let go of what doesn’t serve you.

I’m writing this for myself, too. The bedroom won’t always be clean. The kitchen counter will have crumbs. The thank-you cards might go unwritten. You are still doing enough. You are still enough.