For at least a year after I had my first child, whenever I entered any space outside of my home, I would feel disoriented. I’m sure the trippy cocktail of postpartum disorders and sleep deprivation made the life change feel even more drastic than it already was. Motherhood didn’t just pull the rug up from beneath my feet—it snatched said rug that was apparently covering a massive hole into which I fell…for a year. And as I was metaphorically falling, I’d pass by storefronts and windows aglow with warm light and happy people clinking glasses and making banter, and I’d wonder to myself, “Do they know? Do they know I’m in here falling?”
Three-plus years and a second baby later, and my are feet more firmly on the ground. In fact, I recently left said children for the weekend to attend a college reunion taking place at a camp (English majors, duh). With my first child, there was no way in hell I’d have been able to go away and enjoy without feeling completely outside of myself. This time, I had a stronger foundation because I’d done it before, and I wasn’t in a state of perpetual shock. I was also very much looking forward to racking up some nap time in my comfy little glamping situation. But when I spotted an old classmate, I caught that familiar glint in her eyes. I learned that she wasn’t staying at the camp and had a baby at home about 30 minutes away. And I just knew that even though she was showing up and making chit-chat, she was in that hole, falling.
Now, being a new mom in the Age of Insta-momming is a wild ride. On one hand, you can Google “why 3month poop slimy” and get a helpful answer from a Harvard-educated pediatrician. On the other, you are absolutely inundated with pseudo-science clickbait taken as Gospel because it’s trending on TikTok. The latter, as I’ve written about before, completely robbed me of maternal instincts and made me extremely sensitive to any unsolicited advice. All day, every day, I was being fed tips and products that made me feel inadequate. For this reason, I tiptoe around doling out advice to new moms. For one, they’re probably so tired they can’t even process said advice, and secondly, isn’t it presumptuous to assume that just because my baby calms down to bossa nova, yours will too? In fact, I’m going to assume that unless you are shaking my shoulders and shouting, “WHAT BASSINET SHOULD I GET?” that I can’t solve your problems.
Which brings me back to my old classmate. I hadn’t seen her in 15 years. I wasn’t going to approach her and say, “But have you tried letting him cry it out?” What I did say was a lot simpler: “I see you.”
