I just had one of those baths, you know the kind you sink into and it soothes every part of your over tired, post-baby wobbly Mumbod and it occurred to me that this is the first relaxing evening bath I’ve had since Woody entered the world just over six weeks ago. Both babies were sleeping and I found a moment for myself and for the first time since he was born I gave myself a little pat on the back and thought I’ve actually totally got this.
It’s so easy to wish away those early days with a brand new baby; the constant worry that he’s okay, is he feeding enough, is he feeding too much, his soft spot is pulsating – is that normal? He’s pooped four times today, is that normal?! He’s crying, why is he crying?! You know the drill. But finally, I feel like maybe I do know what I’m doing after all. The endless feeds have subsided a little and are being replaced with big gummy smiles, his little froggy newborn legs are adopting little chubster rolls, his newborn clothes are being packed away in exchange for 0-3’s and we are finally getting into the swing of life as a family of four.
Perhaps it’s just getting to know our little babe that bit better or maybe it’s the fact he’s not so new and is a little more comfortable with post-uterus life. Who knows? But I feel like I’ve reentered society after six weeks of new born haze and it really is a welcome return. It’s that magic six week mark you’re told about. Give it six weeks they say and do you know, they’re not wrong.
To all you fellow new mamas out there, I know you doubt yourself at 5:30pm on a Wednesday afternoon when you’re trying to breastfeed the baby, cook sausages and mash for your three year old who is desperately trying to feed the dog a bone (despite said dog really not wanting the bone) all whilst trying to decipher a German customer service email with your rusty German GCSE – but you’ve totally got this. That six weeks of newness has passed, you’re on a roll and you’re doing an awesome job.