I sat down to write this morning after putting it off for about a week. I told myself it was because laundry needed to be done, my daughter needed my undivided attention, and I needed to plan my return to work from maternity leave. The excuses disguised as reasons are infinite.
The reality is I was terrified. I’m terrified of using my voice and putting my whole two months of mom-ing wisdom out into the world for anyone to peek at and interpret. I was thinking about how many mom posts I see on a daily basis throughout social media. Those mothers seem so confident and certain. I was thinking about the conversation I’ve had with my husband so many times since pregnancy. There are so many ways to parent, and to a new mom, it seems like each voice says the same thing, “This is right and anything else is wrong, but feel free to do what works for you (at your own peril of course).”
The Fear of Expectations
Birth plans, wake windows, schedules, sleep training, etc. All of these rigid terms I’d never heard growing up as the oldest five. My entire being revolves around being adaptable. So, the thought of placing that rigidity on not only myself, but also my tiny human, feels not only impossible but so incredibly heavy.
These terms simply can’t fit in our family dynamic. I once heard something like “Want to make God laugh? Make plans.” That’s pretty much been the story of my husband and me, from our meeting, to our wedding, to starting his business, and even to our journey to become parents. We set goals and have a vision, but the details on getting there, well, those are out of our hands. We’re along for the ride. When something doesn’t work out, I hear my husband’s voice saying “I guess it wasn’t meant to be.” Then, we move on to the next thing.
Scheduling an infant is just not something I’m equipped for. I was lamenting to my own mom about this one night before a pediatrician’s appointment. I wondered aloud how I would explain to anyone that my baby girl is thriving, happy, and well rested, but we have a 1:00 a.m. bedtime.
Our Groove is in the Heart
It dawned on me that while I can’t offer her a schedule, I can give her a heck of a routine and rhythm. I can give her expectations. While we go about her day, she’s going to hear at least one new song. Also, we’re going to play and burp after every meal. Everyday I’ll speak life into her with our list of affirmations, I can promise that. I can give her confidence and security that when daddy gets home from work at whatever hour, she’s going to hang out with him for a while. She’ll eat, bathe, cuddle and read, and then sleep.
Her doctor once told us that at her age, we’re in “the fog of war.” I can’t and won’t see it that way. I like to think of this time as more of a dawning or awakening. As my first born experiences the world for the first time, my husband and I experience her and parenting for the first time. With that perspective, it’s gotten easier to be kinder to myself.
Two months of motherhood is a blink compared to the rest of my life as a mom. As quickly as my daughter grows, my ability to mother her grows. I tell myself daily that all my baby girl needs is my presence and progress, not my perfection. When comparison tries to creep in, I remind myself that worrying if I’m doing a good job means I’m doing better than I think.
