It might feel like you will never sleep again, or do a poo on your own, but you will. Promise…
My daughter Joni has just turned six months. She is suddenly sitting up at the table with us, shovelling down porridge, pureed kale and beetroot, pear & potato soup, sleeping through the night and making me laugh, cry and gasp – constantly.
This morning I was reflecting on our (/her) journey thus far; remembering the colicky evenings of early months, the piercing cries when we tried to take her around the supermarket in her buggy and the CONSTANT need for milk – like, every 30 minutes throughout the summer. Lanolin became my best friend.
Of course, there is also the first time your baby rolls over unaided – I turned around and Joni was suddenly in a yogic seal pose, big eyes beaming up at me – her first giggle (when I accidentally tickled her) and all sorts of other beautiful, magical, joyous moments. But these moments stay with you, ingrained in your memory, and that’s why I was contemplating the more challenging times. When you’re in the midst of the sleepless nights, hysterical crying and refusal to settle, it feels like it will NEVER end. But it does. And then you forget all about it. I’ve even gone as far as to tell friends that Joni never cried at night. I actually believed that to be the truth, until Rich gently reminded me that it was a big, steaming pile of babyshit.
When the colic arrived – very suddenly, one evening, as our sweet relaxed baby became inconsolable unless my nipple was in her mouth at all times – we panicked. What the hell do you do with a baby who won’t stop crying? Well, just feed her constantly we decided. But this meant feeding her all evening without a moment to myself. I couldn’t go to the toilet without her. Someone said: don’t worry, it only lasts a couple of months. A COUPLE OF MONTHS, we said; we were hoping a couple of hours. Then around three and a half months, it stopped. She was suddenly happy in the evenings.
We went through the same thing with sleepless nights, as in: baby up every hour wanting to feed or be comforted. We were lucky that Joni actually loves her sleep so we haven’t had too many of these but they’re torturous.
And the feeding. I was told by a midwife at the hospital that as Joni was a big baby, i’d need to supplement my breast-milk with formula. I wanted to fully breastfeed so ignored her advice and it turns out she was wrong – I didn’t need to supplement – but Joni did have a seemingly insatiable appetite. Until one day, when she started taking more during each feed and only needed my boob once every couple of hours.
When I think back to the more difficult times I feel like Joni barely demands anything now, which is obviously quite far from the truth – but it just does get So. Much. Easier.
And so for all those new parents wondering if they’ll ever sleep again, get to go to the supermarket without whistling, cooing and trying anything to calm a manically crying baby, and hoping their nipples won’t forever burn and ache – don’t worry: it will soon be a (relative) walk in the park. And you’ll be forgetting all the hard bits and remembering the amazing bits and telling your friends a whole load of lies about how your baby has never cried, was sleeping through the night from birth and had a feeding routine down as soon as she popped out.