• Karen Windsor, 37, struggled with burnout as a new mom.
• Counseling sessions and a couple's retreat helped her reassess her priorities.
• She recently quit her corporate job to focus on her relationship with her husband and daughter.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Karen Windsor, 37, from Perth, Australia. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I've always been high-achieving and a hard worker. I expected that I would approach motherhood like every other challenge.

As many new parents will tell you, it was anything but easy. That came as a shock.

In 2018, just after I had her, my baby daughter wouldn't let me put her down. My husband had to go away to work in the mines for weeks before she was a month old — he was a "fly in, fly out" miner. When he returned, she wouldn't even go to him.

It was heartbreaking and exhausting. She was a terrible sleeper, and I was desperate for a break. I asked him to stop working away from home, so he switched roles to a similar job closer to home.

Yet I still really struggled. I'd excelled at every other job, but I felt I was failing at this one.

I went back to work and quickly felt burnout

Returning to work when my daughter was 8 months old felt easier than the uncertainty of being a new mom. I loved having adult conversations and an actual lunch in peace — "me time."

I also knew if I was given a task in my corporate role as a personal assistant, I'd have clearly measured deliverables and positive feedback for doing a good job. But things were still extremely difficult. As we were approaching my daughter's second birthday, I broke down to my mom. I remember saying, "It's all just too hard."

I was scared that the next two years would be like the last two and that I would feel exhausted, overwhelmed, and inadequate. It was then that I realized something was very wrong; it wasn't OK to feel like this. I saw my doctor and booked free counseling via my workplace's employer assistance program.

Counseling sessions helped me put things in perspective

From my first session, everything fell into perspective. The counselor said, "You've set exhaustingly high expectations for yourself." I realized that while working long hours in my corporate job, my family got the worst of me and I wasn't taking care of myself, either. By the evenings and weekends, I had no energy left to truly connect. I'd feel resentful if my daughter didn't sleep and get grumpy with her because it meant I was too tired to bring my A-game to work.

Whenever I sat down to play with her, I had too little energy to be present or enjoy it. Life admin overwhelmed me. I wasn't emotionally available or patient enough to have deep conversations with my husband or even ask him how his week had been.

Counseling made me realize I was showing signs of burnout. I initially reduced my long hours in my corporate job, and my fantastic boss agreed to let me work five fewer hours each week.

During that time, I'd prioritize things like acupuncture or taking the dog for a walk with my husband. But we still needed to rekindle the spark we had previously had in our relationship; we still felt slightly out of sync.

A couple's retreat that helped me reconnect with my husband

I saw a relationship coach advertise a nearby couple's retreat, and it felt perfect. It was less of a long-term commitment than couple's counseling and still an opportunity to reconnect.

On the retreat, we did a breathwork session to release tension and wrote goals and a vision for our relationship. We had to look into each other's eyes for five minutes, then hug for five minutes. I couldn't remember the last time we'd done that; I felt oxytocin travel through my body. We also had an ice bath together, holding hands through it, to symbolize how we'd face upcoming challenges. By the end, we felt invincible.

As I started implementing some things from the retreat — turning off the TV and chatting instead, having more date nights with my husband, and setting my phone to "do not disturb" earlier in the evening — I realized how much I'd been missing out on, and I dropped down to three working days a week.

After a comment from my daughter, I decided to leave the corporate world

The crunch point came when my then-5-year-old daughter asked me if I could stay off my phone during her swimming lesson and watch her instead. That hit me hard. I'd been using the time to pay household bills, and I realized how much my focus on work and getting life admin jobs done had impacted my relationships. I felt like I should always be doing something to be productive; the curse of a working mom.

For the past year, I've taken advantage of my part-time schedule and have started building a flexible business as a freelance PR agent. Initially, it was actually more work while I kept the two jobs going. But I kept my eye on the long game: having the flexibility and independence to step back and work for myself.

This month, I permanently quit my corporate job and I now work for myself with flexible hours.

I'll finally be able to prioritize self-care, which has been a low priority for years. I hope my new schedule will make me a more relaxed and present mom and wife. In the afternoon, I'll bake cookies and play in the park. No more picking my daughter up late from after-school care and racing home at 5 p.m. just in time for the rush of dinner, bath, and bed.

I can't get the past six years back, but I'm committed to making the next six years and beyond better for my daughter, husband, and family.

I've learned that you can have it all, just not all at once.

• Nina Goodwin, 40, wanted a maximum of two kids and never planned to have any in her 40s.
• Then, her first daughter was born with Down Syndrome.
• She didn't want her second daughter to be responsible her sister's care.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Nina Goodwin. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I never initially planned to have a baby in my 40s.

In fact, as I already had two kids and had never actually wanted a third, it was never something I thought I'd find myself pining for and trying so hard for — even at risk to my own health.

My husband, Will, had wanted a big family. Two was my limit. I remember saying, "I'm the one who's got to carry that child."

Everything changed when I gave birth to my first beautiful daughter, Mabel. We were told she has Down Syndrome. I found the shock and grief quite overwhelming.

I was focused on her

Back then, the idea of having three kids was out of the question. All I could think about was how am I even going to parent this one child? The thought of having any more with the risk of them also being neurodivergent was too unbearable to imagine.

Then, I connected with the Down Syndrome community and started processing it. I noticed many Down Syndrome kids had lots of siblings. I learned how they have more support and love the social aspect of being surrounded by people they trust and who love them.

I wanted Mabel to grow up with a brother or sister who shared a close bond so she wouldn't feel isolated. So, along came Nancy.

I liked that she was another girl; it meant she'd be caring toward Mabel.

My second child helped me a lot

We knew there'd come a time when Nancy's development would overtake her older sister's. That's already happened — Mabel is 7, and Nancy is 5. If I can't get Mabel to do anything, you can guarantee Nancy will do it. She'll dress her. Put her on the toilet. Read to her. Mabel always says, "You be mom, Nancy, you be mom!"

But as I saw this unfolding, I had a darker realization.

If Mabel was already seeing Nancy as a second mom, I saw that play out in the future. I didn't want all the burden of care to fall on Nancy for the rest of her life.

What if something happened to me and Will, and she felt duty-bound to be Mabel's carer forever? Or when we naturally go, and all our kids outlive us? I didn't want Nancy to feel shackled. It made me feel guilty.

Maybe Nancy will happily be the sibling carer. But maybe she wants to be a free spirit and travel the world, doing all the things young people should have the freedom to do. Yet she feels she has to compromise those dreams to care for her sister as her parents age, become more frail, and then die. Nancy never chose that for herself. I was maybe catastrophizing, but the guilt ate me up.

And so along came Edith, who's now 4 months old.

People didn't understand why I wanted a 3rd

It was a traumatic journey to have Edith. At first, some friends didn't understand why I'd have a third when I already found it tough having two kids and a full time banking job.

I was determined, though. I had three miscarriages before having Edith. Physically and mentally, my body's really been through it, so I haven't come out of this pregnancy in great mental health. I don't feel seven years older than when I first became a mom; I feel 20 years older. It'll get better; I'm just trying to get used to life as a family of five.

The upside is that the crushing guilt I felt lifted the minute Edith arrived, and I relaxed a bit. Of course, Edith may also want to be her own person. But now the responsibility of care for Mabel is shared after I'm no longer here or able. Some of the grief about giving birth to a disabled child — which is taboo to discuss — has also been healed as a result.

I feel terrible using the words "burden" or "responsibility," especially because Mabel may also develop into a very independent person.

As the girls age, my message for them about Mabel will be the same as any mom's message to her kids: look after each other.

Financially, we've set up a trust for Mabel so she can do what she enjoys. She might want to go to college, or go on holidays, or go to raves.

Ultimately, I want all my daughters to do two things in life: fulfill their potential and be happy. Now I have three — against all odds — I really feel I've done all I can to set them up for that.