The Baseball Game That Almost Broke me

Motherhood

Jun 2

Hey mama,

A few weeks ago, we went to the Pirates game as a family. My husband, Matt, was throwing out the first pitch (so proud), and we had all four kids with us. I haven’t really talked much about it here, but I’m pregnant—well into my second trimester now—and yep, more on that coming soon. But in case you don’t follow me on socials, surprise!

Anyway, it was 85 degrees, and I knew Matt would be busy—first pitch, races, on-field stuff. So naturally, that left me with our very active, very attached 18-month-old, Dimitri.

I love how curious, social, and full of life he is. I also love that he wants me all the time… but I’d be lying if I said it’s not a lot—especially when I’m pregnant, overheating, and haven’t eaten anything except rogue pouches I packed for him.

We were down on the field for about an hour pre-game (in the direct sun), and I was juggling snacks, sunscreen, sippy cups, and trying to watch Matt while making sure all the kids had water and weren’t melting. By the time we finally got to our suite, I was dizzy from hunger—but Dimitri was starving too. So I fed him first, obviously. I always do.

At one point, one of my stepdaughters looked at me and said, “Leah, how’s your food?” (which was just… sitting there). I laughed and said, “It’s… there.” She immediately offered to hold Dimitri so I could eat. And I swear to you, I nearly cried. Just that simple act of kindness—her seeing me—meant everything.

It was such a sweet moment. But it also hit me how often as moms we just power through. We carry the babies, the bags, the mental load. We show up for everyone else before ourselves, because that’s what moms do.

And even though the day was filled with such special moments—Dimitri’s first baseball game, the kids all together, Matt being honored—I left early (of course) to get Dimitri home for bedtime. I walked 30 minutes to the car, carrying all 35 pounds of him on one of those little hip seat things that absolutely wasn’t made for a pregnant belly. My hips were screaming. I called my mom as soon as I got in the car and just cried. Not because anything was wrong, but because it was so much.

This is motherhood.

Not always picture-perfect. Not always “fun.” But so deeply layered with love and sacrifice and showing up—over and over and over again. No one talks about how exhausting it can be just to go to a baseball game. No one sees the little things we do. And most of us won’t say anything, because we don’t want to seem like we’re complaining. But I just want to say…

If you’re a mom, I see you.

I see the unseen sacrifices. I see how hard you’re trying. I see how deeply you love and how much you give. And I just wanted to remind you: you’re not alone, you’re doing an incredible job, and you’re a bad bitch even when your hair’s in a sweaty ponytail and you haven’t eaten all day.

You don’t need anyone to tell you it’s worth it. You already know that.

But it’s okay to admit it’s hard, too.

With love and a big hug,