Letter to Myself

Whenever I see a new mother with a tiny baby in her arms, I see a reflection of myself 20 months ago - clueless, fretful, and restless.  Sure, I see the occasional new mother who appears to have it all together, or at least doesn't look to be in immediate danger of dropping off the deep end.  But more often than not, I catch a glimpse of that crazed look in a new mother's eye - and I know that look.  Like a caged, sleep-deprived wild animal.  (Can wild animals be sleep-deprived?  Whatever, just go with it.)



That's the look



When I see that look, I want to reach across the space between us and give the new mama a bear hug and advice on all the things I wish I'd known when Lilah was a newborn.  Except I know that, had someone done that to me back then, I probably would have pushed them away.  I only wanted advice when I was ready to ask for it.  Unsolicited advice was just more crap to add to the pile; more that I should be doing or thinking about that I just didn't have the time or energy for.  It either made me feel guilty or it made me roll my eyes at the thought that the bearer of such advice could possibly understand my child and/or my parenting philosophy (yeah, right, as if I even knew what my parenting philosophy was).

If I could write a letter to myself as a brand new mom, here are just a few of the many things I would say:

• Babies fuss and cry, that's kind of their schtick.  Your baby will not suffer adverse effects if left to cry for two minutes while you finish wiping your butt or wolfing down that sandwich.  Mama's basic needs are important too!  Similarly, your baby will not implode if she is not fed the very second she starts to show signs of hunger.
• Mama's sanity is paramount.  If you have been sitting around shirtless attempting to satiate an insatiable baby by breastfeeding for hours on end, it is more than acceptable to take a break and leave the house with said insatiable baby (after putting a shirt on, of course).  Baby will probably appreciate the break too, and may even fall asleep in the stroller or baby carrier, miracle of miracles!
• Sometimes baby will cry right before falling asleep, even when you are rocking/bouncing/patting/shushing.  Putting up with a few minutes of crying may well be worth it for the half-hour of blissful silence that follows.




Phew, she's sleeping!


• The second six months make up for the first six months - in spades.  (But try not to spend the first six months wishing the time away - you'll regret it.)
• You will survive the hard moments and eventually the highs will overtake the lows.  And you will someday even look back with a certain amount of nostalgia on those sleepless nights spent rocking a crying baby for hours on end.  Time has a way of blurring images and smoothing out the sharp corners on those memories.
• People genuinely want to help you out, and you should let them.  Soon the offers will start dropping off and people will assume you've adjusted to your new way of life.  And then when you need help, you will have to ask for it overtly which, trust me, is much harder than accepting an offer of food/babysitting/cleaning/whatever that has already been put on the table by an eager friend or relative.
• Everything is a phase: sleeping well, sleeping poorly, sleeping well, not eating, eating for hours on end, pooping frequently, pooping infrequetnly, rapid weight gain, slow weight gain, teething, waking up screaming, waking up chipper and chatting, drooling, biting, being cranky, being happy... the list goes on.  Just when you think you've got things figured out and some kind of pattern established, baby will switch things up on you. (This last one is still very applicable at Lilah's age and will be for quite some time, I imagine.)

I will have to come back and have another look at this list when (if?) the Hubs and I have a second child.  What about you, dear readers?  Anything to add?  I'd love to hear your thoughts!