I wrote this post in July and am publishing it in October. If that doesn’t say newborn land, I don’t know what does.
I feel like I can finally sit down and write because little miss finally dropped one of her middle-of-the-night feedings and I feel myself coming alive again. Phew!
A couple of weeks ago, I looked over at the play mat and Vivienne had rolled onto her side. Just like that, I witnessed the “last first”. It honestly sends my heart racing just thinking about it. I love seeing her come alive but at the same time, I know how quickly it’s going to go, and how quickly it’s already gone.
New motherhood, even if you’ve done it twice before, is such a profound experience. We went from living it up – as much as you do with a 5 and 3-year-old – to living in 2.5-hour increments. Eight ‘eat, play, sleep’ cycles in a 24 period can feel mundane even when you’re crazy in love with this new person. It’s confusing because you find yourself wanting longer, more independent sleep while simultaneously never wanting this perfect infant to grow up. The new, eye-burning exhaustion is fueled by adrenaline and lots of visitors during those first few weeks but it morphs into this prolonged, bone-deep exhaustion that hits about 4 weeks postpartum when real life resumes and visitors stop.
I texted my girlfriend who had twin boys a few months before me knowing she could empathize with my lack of sleep. I was talking in circles about how Caroline and Elyce slept through the night around 6-8 weeks, lamenting Vivienne’s multiple nighttime feeds at 12 weeks, trying to figure out why she was so different from my other two babies. She put it so succinctly, “any way you slice it, not sleeping is just the worst.” It felt so good to just be seen. She didn’t try to problem-solve. She didn’t offer some condescending comment telling me to enjoy it because it goes so fast. She just empathized with me as a mother.
I think that’s what I’m taking away from my 3rd fourth trimester. We need so much more emphasis on the mother. And mothers need to let the attention be on them from time to time. Comparing my third newborn phase to the previous two, I learned to accept help when offered and even asked for it a few times. On the days Caroline and Elyce were in school, I tried to sleep when Vivienne slept. Oh, how I wish I slept when the baby slept with Caroline. It’s the advice given to every first-time mom, that exactly zero women follow, only to find herself as a second or third-time mom cursing for not doing it the first time. I guess that’s how the human race continues. Every mom promises herself she will do it differently the next time but never does. However, this third-time mom isn’t making those promises anymore because Viv is our last.
Being the last, every first feels like its own closing in a way. And while these firsts are bittersweet, I’m more filled with excitement. That’s the benefit of being the last baby. Your parents know just how much better it’s going to get – even when it can’t get any better than this. I look back at my maternity photos and they feel so far away. Literally, a distant memory because it’s hard to remember a time before you. My third baby who I’ve always known I wanted but didn’t know who you’d be. Yet here you are – the only baby who could have completed us. To think I never knew you, somehow, I’ve always known you. And I can’t wait to get to know who you will be, Vivienne.