Reflections on the First Month of Parenthood
Somehow, more than five weeks has elapsed since we welcomed our daughter to the world. It seems like one very long day, solely focused on meeting the needs of an adorable yet demanding human, punctuated by fleeting moments of blessed sleep.
Here are some random thoughts I’ve had during my first weeks as a mother.
Someone needs to invent a real-life pod like the Mandalorian had for Baby Yoda. The closest we’ve come to such a thing is the wheeled bassinet that the baby lived in during our hospital stay. Having a device that follows me around in which the baby can lay down would be awesome. And I bet the metal roof is soundproof and probably keeps respiratory viruses at bay too.
This would be especially useful since our baby is not keen on any baby-wearing wrap or carrier we’ve tried. Instead, we take turns holding her, or shuttle her between a pack-and-play downstairs, a Mamaroo chair which she only occasionally tolerates, or the Snoo in our bedroom.
ALL HAIL THE SNOO. Thanks to generous friends who bought a Snoo for their now 3-year-old, we are living the luxe life by using the bassinet that senses when the baby is fussing and soothes her back to sleep with rocking and white noise. It’s not perfect, as the baby does not yet sleep for six hours in a row, but it definitely helps her sleep 2–3 hours at a time. (It also builds in a little sleep training for parents, who have to listen to the baby cry for a few minutes before the Snoo gives up on consoling the baby.)
The pediatrician at the hospital said she used the “fake Snoo” for her infant and it worked well too. Say what you will about our algorithm-based overlords — it’s worth the expense to buy or borrow a smart bassinet.
Sleep when the baby sleeps is a sham. Maybe you can turn your brain off for a nap at 10am, but I sure can’t. I managed one semi-nap on our second day home from the hospital around 3:30pm. My only hope is to go to bed at 9pm and let Gin take the baby until midnight. And I need ear plugs and white noise to drown those newborn grunts, pants, and shrieks out enough to get enough rest early in the night to make up for early morning feedings.
I’ve said many uncharitable things about the American Academy of Pediatrics. Keeping the baby in your room is helpful to learn their cues and prevent SIDS. But newborns are LOUD. I would prefer she sleep somewhere else until my brain resumes functioning again.
Evenings are hard. Nobody warned me about the crushing anxiety that would hit me around sunset during the first month. As the sun got low in the sky, a pit developed in my stomach. Am I a good Mom? Is the baby OK? Why on earth did we fight so hard to bring new life into a world that seems to be falling apart? Will the baby sleep tonight? I miss the dog so much. This time of day led to tears so reliably Gin and I semi-jokingly called it my five-o-clock cry.
When I mentioned this to my therapist, I fully expected to get a script for antidepressants, but was instead told about 90 percent of her clients feel this way, and it’s totally normal. So. Yay?
(If you’re suffering through this, I’ve found an afternoon walk helps a bit, if the weather cooperates. Do it alone, or do it with the baby. And, if it’s bad enough, ask for antidepressants.)
It truly does take a village. We’ve been moved to tears time and time again by the generosity of friends and neighbors after we brought our daughter home. We’ve gotten food deliveries, flowers, drop-offs of diapers (holy hell, how do we use so many diapers?), and help with errands during an especially trying postpartum period.
Now, let’s see what we learn in the baby’s second month.
