You feel like you’re drowning. Days stretching endlessly ahead and everything piling up on top of you. Overwhelm and self-doubt have become your near constant companions.
But they keep telling you to, “savour it.”
Projecting their regret onto you as they offer reminders of how quickly the time passes. How they’re really not babies for long. With the benefit of hindsight they think they know just what you should do.
An exercise in 24-hours per day meditation is all they’re asking – when you could barely still your mind for 10 minutes at a time before you had a tiny human to keep alive.
They’re well-intentioned, of course. It’s meant to be kind. But it isn’t. Not really. Because “savour it” becomes another impossible ideal to live up to. And the last thing we need as new mamas is another thing to feel like we’re failing at.
Trust me, I get it: you want to savour it. If you could bottle it up – the scent of his newborn head, those precious milky moments, even the sound of his cry – you would. And then your future self could take a whiff whenever she wanted.
But living in the thick of it feels like it might drown you.
The days bleed into the nights and then to day again without a moment to recharge. An endless loop of feeding (who knew they could eat so much?!) and swaying and pacing the floor with a baby who seems like he might never stop crying.
It’s okay to just get through the day.
To call your husband at 3pm and beg him to leave work early. And then feel instantly guilty because you’re so lucky to be home with the baby and you know he can’t come home yet.
To eat your feelings and binge on Netflix during those marathon nursing sessions rather than spending endless hours staring into your baby’s eyes, savouring his sweetness.
It’s all okay.
Can you believe that with just a few short months between us that my rose-tinted glasses have already appeared? That sometimes I miss those endless, milky days?
I wish I could pepper one or two amidst our new, more active, out-and-about days.
But I won’t tell you to savour it.
Because when all I could see were those endless days strung out in front of me, I often felt like I was drowning.
I promise it won’t last forever. Please be gentle with yourself and do what you need to do to get through the day.