On having a baby

Checking in from the fourth trimester.

Three weeks ago, on September 26, I gave birth to my son, Leo Joel. He was born right around lunchtime, and the moment the nurses placed him on my chest I thought, this is what everyone talks about. The overwhelming love and utter disbelief that this little person came from inside of me, toes and all.

There was so much preparation for birth — courses, mantras, pelvic floor exercises — but I have to confess that I was wildly unprepared for the fourth trimester and mechanics of early motherhood. People tell you that having a newborn is hard, but I had no idea how chaotic and challenging it really can be. I have felt raw these last three weeks, like I’m walking around without skin. Postpartum is deeply vulnerable. I’m bleeding, pumping, and exhausted. My body is still recovering from birth, and I’m riding one hormonal wave after the next as I fight to return to equilibrium. The learning curve is steep, from deciphering newborn cries to swaddling and assembling pumps. I love my baby so much, but that “mother’s intuition” everyone talks about is still loading. It’s hard to tap into your intuition when you’re sleep deprived and learning about a whole new world. I wonder when, if ever, I’ll feel like myself again, while simultaneously feeling completely like myself — albeit, a new self — in the moments when my son looks up at me. It’s confusing and it’s a lot.

In the midst of it all: an unimaginable terrorist attack in Israel. War in the Middle East. Babies being ripped away from their parents. Heightened levels of cortisol and fear and anxiety. Rocking my own baby to sleep while thinking of kidnapped children and decimated families. I’m not sure any human is meant to witness this level of terror and destruction, but I can certainly tell you that, as a new mom, it’s beyond the capacity of what my brain can currently handle.

As a writer, my instinct is to chronicle and opine on every experience, while processing my emotions and being present with my baby. But here’s the truth: there is no processing happening here. Processing requires brain power, and all of my mine is being devoted to adapting to a new normal. Feedings. Changing diapers. Rocking. Pumping. Cleaning pump parts. Logging feed times. A shower. A meal. Repeat. My brain can barely download the past hour, let alone contextualize being a new parent long enough to write a sentence about it.

“I’ll write while the baby sleeps,” I told friends whenever they asked about my plans for a maternity leave. I had no idea how exhausted I would feel every time the baby — my sweet, perfect baby — finally fell asleep. And while I know I will write again, I have also been humbled by the amount of grace and patience I need to give myself for my mental health right now.

In twelve step programs, people celebrate various lengths of continuous sobriety. The first milestone is usually 90 days of sobriety. It’s a way of practicing the “one day at a time” axiom while working towards a goal. When I was newly sober, not drinking ever again felt impossible; 90 days sounded a little bit more manageable. Those first three months were pure survival mode. I skipped parties and dinners and gave myself a pass to sit on my couch, watch TV, and eat all the candy. When I got anxious about hypothetical future scenarios, I reminded myself not to think too far ahead. I cocooned as much as I could, and every night that my head hit the pillow without drinking was an accomplishment. When I hit 90 days, I felt a shift. Little by little, life without alcohol got easier.

Similarly, this first stretch of parenthood has required staying anchored in the present. Every time I change a diaper or elicit a burp, it’s an accomplishment. I’m not sure if 90 days is a milestone for babies, but the idea of counting days (and hours) for a limited period of time is comforting. Will I ever sleep again? I don’t have to worry about “ever again” right now; it’s only day 6. Will I ever get back into a regular writing routine? Yes, but it’s only day 21. One day at a time I am getting to know my son, figuring out our new routine, and trusting that the rest will fall into place.

As far as this newsletter, I’ll be sharing updates along the way on a modified cadence as I navigate early parenthood. There’s so much more to say — on mommy culture and the pressure to breastfeed and firsts I haven’t even encountered yet — but there’s time to get into all that. For now, it’s day 21. More soon.

Xx

Sarah