Happy one month birthday to my little man.
Now that I’ve been a mom for a month, I’m getting the hang of taking care of a baby. But also … I still have no idea how to take care of a baby.
On the one hand, I understand maternal instincts. If the baby is crying, feed him. Burp him. If he’s still crying, change his diaper. If he’s still crying, rock him. If he’s still crying, offer the pacifier. If he’s still crying, feed him again — that’s what I call “dessert.”
On the other hand, imposter syndrome. I’m familiar with imposter syndrome from basically every job I’ve ever had. It’s basically why I ultimately quit lawyering: “Wait, you want ME to get you the child support you deserve in your divorce??” As a new mom, it’s more like: “The universe trusts ME and usually ME ALONE to take care of this kid?? To attend to his every need? To figure out why he’s upset, to soothe him, feed him, diaper him, bathe, change clothes, figure out if he’s sick… And then, in a year, make sure he doesn’t fall over and bang his head on something when he’s learning to walk … And then, a year after that, make sure he’s socializing properly … And on and on until he’s 18 or 22 or 32 or actually until the end of time?”
Here’s when each feeling comes up.
Feeling number one, I’m a Competent Mother, makes itself known every two to three hours when Miles cries and I know it’s because he’s hungry. I go to the refrigerator, remove a pre-filled bottle full of pumped breast milk, heat it up in the bottle warmer, and deliver it into his quivering little mouth. My heart melts when I see his face change immediately: He goes from mad and hungry to happy and satiated, just like that. If only we could all be as simple as babies.
Feeling number two, I’m an Imposter Mother Who Has No Idea How to Make Her Baby Happy, rears its ugly head basically every time Miles cries and it’s not because he’s hungry. I burp him until he lets out a big little baby belch and pat myself on the back until five seconds later when he’s wailing again. I stand up, walk around and rock him until he calms himself and breathe a sigh of relief until I set him back down on his back and the transfer out of my arms cues a fresh round of tears. I change his diaper and wipe his little baby butt, but the fresh Pamper actually seems to cause an uptick in the crying. My heart feels heavy as I wonder what I’m doing wrong, especially when my husband swoops in, scoops up the baby and calms him on the spot with some bouncing and a made-up lullaby.
I know what I’m feeling is far from unique. Being a first-time mom is hard, both in a practical sense and existentially. When you’re devoting your entire life to taking care of a tiny human, it hurts to fail a million times a day, even if each failure is tiny.
Last week, as Miles kicked and screamed in my arms just minutes after finishing a full, warm bottle and being placed in a fresh diaper and a clean outfit and I unsuccessfully tried to bounce him into serenity, it dawned on me that I should focus on the positive.
It sounds so simple, doesn’t it? But what if I give myself credit for the small wins instead of beating myself up for the small fails? That perspective could be applied to anything in life, but it seems especially pertinent with babies. At the end of the day, taking care of a baby is quite simple. It comes with a huge payoff — a happy, healthy, functioning new member of society — but the first few months aren’t exactly rocket science. So why not give myself credit simply for attending to the baby’s needs? I pumped milk out of my sore breasts! I fed him! I’ve managed to not run out of diapers and give him a clean one every time he needs it! He seems to kind of enjoy it (i.e. doesn’t cry) when I take him for walks in his stroller!
I’m not an imposter; I’m a mother. I’m going to feel like an imposter sometimes, but I have to imagine we all do.