Our little man turned three months old last week.
The 4th trimester is over.
And the fog is lifting.
He’s starting to sleep in slightly longer stretches and he’s nursing much more efficiently these days. Best of all, his face lights up and he coos like crazy when his big sister (and the rest of us) talk to him. Seeing the two of them interacting is pure joy (for now anyway ).
I saw a newborn the other day and, no surprise here, was shocked at how tiny she was compared to our little one. (Of course, the fact that my kiddo is almost 14 lbs probably has something to do with it.)
I’m glad the first few months are over. I don’t wish they would have gone faster but I don’t wish them back either.
We’re so hard on moms of newborns. You know, these women who just brought life from within themselves and are often sustaining that life from within. These women who spring leaks at the sound of their baby crying. These women who hold and rock and cuddle and bounce and sing and whisper and shush and tiptoe out of rooms. These women who pray for a moment’s peace and then worry when they get it.
So, 4th trimester mama:
Ignore the expectations. Just be. Do what works now. Rock that baby. Or hand him to his dad. Don’t worry about those who say you’re spoiling her. If you desperately need to get out of the house, do it. If you don’t want to put her down, don’t. If you don’t want to leave your bed, don’t. You can do later. For now, just be. Look at those tiny fingers, that bald little head: you’ve already done.