Several of my friends have just recently or very soon will become grandparents. They’re all over the moon about it, fussing over baby gifts and pack and plays, rearraigning their days and lives to give their daughters and daughters-in-law the same love, support, and guidance their mothers and mothers-in-law gave them.
It got me thinking about how grateful I was for the care and counsel I got from the older women in my life when I was a new mom. It’s an incredibly exciting and transformative time, but it can also be intense and sometimes overwhelming, especially when it’s your first. It made me wonder, knowing what I know now, what kinds of tips or advice would I give to my new-mom self to make those first few months a little easier? If I could go back in time and slip a note into the pocket of my brand-spanking new diaper bag as they wheeled me to the door of the hospital cradling an immaculate car seat into which my two-day old Scout had been anxiously and oh-so-carefully fitted, this is what I think I would say.
Trust Yourself.
Yes, they are sending this baby home with you. Without any certifications or special classes or even real hands-on experience. No, they are not incredibly irresponsible for doing that. The doctors and nurses at this hospital know what you have yet to learn: that you got this. I know it doesn’t feel that way right now, but you already know this baby better than anyone else on the planet. And the thing about momming an infant is that you do so much of the same thing over and over you become an expert really quickly. Within a week you’ll be changing diapers like a pro and already recognize which cry is asking you to address which end of your baby. Within a month you’ll realize how good your instincts are and that they should never be ignored. Eventually you’ll learn that you can smell a fever and sleep standing up and be in a separate room from her without anything tragic happening. But for now, know this: God made you her mom for a reason. Trust that.
Accept that your Body has Done Something Miraculous . . . and Messy.
You have no idea how much the human body can leak until you have a baby. And I’m not just talking hers, I’m talking yours. It won’t last forever, but for the next few months at least, do yourself a favor and get some chucks.
Not the sneakers. The waterproof bed pads. They’re not hard to find, come in various sizes, and offer disposable and washable options. (Use the washable ones if you can; you have a baby to save the planet for now.) Slip one over your sheets and, in the event anything that used to be inside your body unexpectedly finds its way out of your body, you don’t have to strip anything or remake anything or wake anybody up. Just toss the pad into the wash, throw another one on, and get straight back to sleep.
Same thing with the baby. You haven’t experienced the joy of a blow-out diaper yet, but they’re definitely coming. Sneaky. Like a stealth bomber. Wake up to a crib full of one of these and you’re definitely not getting straight back to sleep. But if you’ve put a chucks under the baby’s sheet clean-up will be easier and you’ll all get back to sleep sooner. Carefully extract the baby from the blast sight and get her cleaned up, throw the whole kit and caboodle of mess into the wash, and put a new chucks and sheet on your still clean and dry mattress. Snooze time.
They’re also great to have in your diaper bag – for as long as you need a diaper bag. You may not be headed to Target or the grocery store in the immediate future, but you will eventually. And those changing tables have seen a lot of action. Having a nice, clean, impermeable guardian between your little angle’s bum and the ghost of bums past is, you know, good.
Prioritize Sleep.
One of the reasons I mention the chucks is that they’ll help you get a little more sleep, and I want you to seriously prioritize sleep. I know this one sounds crooked to you. Your baby is everything now. You’d walk to the ends of the earth for her. You’d throw yourself in front of a bus for her. She’s the priority.
Yes. Yes, she is. But I’m not asking you to prioritize yourself. I’m asking you to move sleep – hers and yours – to the top of the to-do list. When your mom was having kids in the 1960’s, she stayed in the hospital for four days or more and was expected to basically do nothing but focus on her baby for weeks after that. These days, you’re out of the hospital in a day and a half and it’s easy to believe that getting back to your pre-baby routine – and body and job and standards of cleanliness – as quickly as possible is normal. It’s not. And you shouldn’t put that kind of pressure on yourself.
There things only you can do as a mom, like breastfeed and bond. But there are lots more you can offload. Cooking. Laundry. Cleaning. Shopping. Ask for help – not just from your partner, from anyone able and generous enough to give it. Gratefully accept when you can. And, to the absolute best of your ability, use that time to sleep.
It’s actually something you’re doing for your baby. Don’t underestimate the impact that lack of sleep has on your mood and thinking and judgment. A few months from now, you’re going to have a vaguely competitive conversation with your friend Jill about how deliriously, overwhelmingly, mind-bendingly tired you are. Jill, who has twins, will confidently tell you, “You don’t even know from tired. Tired is when you hear a sound from the babies’ room and you think to yourself, ‘I should go check on them. Something could be wrong. One of them could be dead.’ But then you think, if they’re dead, they’ll still be dead tomorrow, and you go back to sleep!”
Jill wins. Don’t be Jill.
Feel the Feels.
Whatever you’re feeling right now is OK. Having a baby is usually a joyful experience, but not always exclusively so. Especially with your first, every single thing in your life radically changes, including the chemicals coursing through your body and the thoughts skittering through your mind. I know someone who grieved – silently – for weeks after her son was born because she hadn’t realized how much she wanted a girl. I know someone who felt a terrible sense of loss after her son was born because she’d loved being pregnant and realized she would never be so intimately connected with him again. I know someone who hid her crying jags from everyone because she couldn’t explain why they were happening when she’d been blessed with this beautiful little girl. I know someone who had such anxiety over dropping her daughter that she stayed as far away from staircase railings as possible out of fear of doing it. I know someone who felt nothing for her baby and was just going through the motions until she finally opened up to her husband about it and got some help.
You know them too. But you won’t know these things about them for years. There’s too much shame and confusion over feelings like these. So, they struggled with the crushing weight of not feeling how they were “supposed” to feel – alone. You are going to be riding a hormone wave the likes of which you’ve never seen. Don’t drop an anchor and let it swirl around and over you. Grab a surfboard. And a lifeline. Talk about what you’re feeling because whatever it is, you’re not the first to feel it, and it’s OK.
Turn off the News.
You may not realize it as you gaze into the beautiful eyes of this perfect little being, but she has already fundamentally and permanently changed your perspective on the world. Now, you’ll see everyone in the world as somebody’s child. Now, you’ll be able to empathize at a level you never knew possible. And that can easily make you feel the world’s troubles very acutely.
Do yourself a favor and turn off the news, at least for a while. Mind your own mindset. Dive into the immediacy and vitality of taking care of this little bundle of yours and unabashedly milk every ounce of joy out of it you can.
Take the Grace. You’re Going to Need it.
Momming is an incredible, exhilarating, beautiful, life-affirming experience. I think you’re going to be great at it. But I know you’re not going to be perfect at it. You will fall apart. You will lose it. There will be times when the baby won’t stop crying and you’ve done everything you can possibly think of and you feel frustration gurgling up into your throat and hear your teeth grinding together. And in those moments you will need to give yourself some grace . . . and some space. Make sure the baby is safe, walk into another room and take some deep breaths. Make yourself a cup of tea. Take a ten-minute shower.
Then call an older mom.
Let them tell you this is all part of it. Let them share how they managed the difficult moments. Let them pull you back together and prop you back up. Let them do for you what their mothers and mothers-in-law did for them. Take the grace knowing that, sooner than you imagine, you’ll be doing for your little bundle what these women are doing for you.