reclaiming the early days of motherhood
with more information than we could ever hope to consume at our fingertips, being a new mama has never been more confusing. i think. but like i said… i am a first time mother so really how the hell should i know?
these last few weeks i sifted through heaps of information in my search for answers on how to get my son to sleep a little longer between his middle of the night feedings. feedings. i hate that word. it makes babies sound like farm animals. snack. late night snack. i searched for answers on how to get my son to sleep a little longer between his dinner and his late night snack.
i discovered dozens of pretty, printable pdf schedules promising longer nights of sleep for my family. charts detailed ounces, hours, and suggested meal times. articles written by drs, professionals, and parents on best practices, each swearing their method worked best. i started playing the comparison game. seeing how my sweet boy was stacking up against other babies his age. wondering how i was doing in relation to other new mothers.
then, right in the middle of a pretty fierce google search, the sleeping baby on my lap laughed – out loud – so hard he woke himself up. my boy, born at just under 5lbs now tips the scales at over 10lbs. he is strong and happy. he sleeps and eats and farts and laughs.
after i got my boy back to sleep, i logged into facebook and removed myself from countless “mommy groups.” i unsubscribed from the daily “what to expect” advice emails. i shut my laptop and quieted the questions bouncing around my brain.
i can navigate this parenting stuff the good old fashioned way – by listening to my gut and to my son. i will talk with my mother, my sister, my best friends, and our pediatrician. i will use my freakin’ head and my maternal instinct which is growing stronger by the second.
at ten weeks in i am putting an end to stressing about the next milestone, the next weigh in, or when we can stretch the hours between meals and naps.
i will no longer wish away the sleepless nights, but treasure midnight moments when my son’s tiny fist curls around my finger as he eats.