When my son Everett (my husband and I call him Ev) was three days old, I looked down at him nursing in my lap and was overwhelmed with what a beautiful sight he was. I was also overwhelmed with fear. I thought to myself, I am responsible for keeping this creature alive. I have to feed him every day for at least the next 18 years. That’s 6,008 days and approximately 19,224 meals! I started to cry. Uncontrollably.
What I was feeling was about more than just feeding my baby. It was the thought of being his parent. I felt guilty for how I was feeling because I had wanted a baby for so long, and while I’d like to blame a lot of my reaction on my postpartum hormones, I think anyone would be a little (or a lot) overwhelmed. So I gave myself a pep talk. I told myself, “Sadie, you can do this. You can do this. You have a wonderful husband who would never let anything happen to you or his son. He will get up with you for four a.m. feedings. You have family who love you and will support you if times get rough. And you are already a good mom!”
And the most important thing I told myself? “Everyone has room to grow and everyone makes mistakes.” Lots of mistakes.
Eventually, I calmed myself down. I rocked Ev and put him to sleep and went on with my day. Being a mom is scary, but there hasn’t ever been anything so worth it.