Who Holds the Mother?
In the early days after a baby is born, there is often a flurry of attention and activity. Family and friends visit, meals are prepared, and people are around to help while the mother recovers.
But as the weeks go by, life gradually returns to normal. The visits become less frequent, the help begins to dwindle, and everyone goes back to their usual routines.
Except for the mother, whose life has changed completely.
I remember those early postpartum days when the initial help had tapered off, and I found myself home alone with my baby. It had been weeks, days, hours, and minutes of this seemingly endless, round-the-clock responsibility of caring for a tiny human who depended entirely on me.
My days revolved around breastfeeding, changing diapers, carrying, and trying to catch whatever rest I could between the baby's needs. Day and night were blended into a blur. I was exhausted, edgy, and increasingly aware of how alone I felt.
One day, after nursing and rocking my baby for what felt like the tenth time, I began to cry.
At first, I thought I was crying because I was frustrated that I couldn't put my baby down in the cot without the crying starting all over again. Perhaps I was upset because the nap I had been desperately looking forward to was slipping away, again.
But as I sat there holding my baby, I realised there was something else beneath those tears.
I was crying because I felt that nobody knew how hard it had been. Nobody could see what I was going through.
The exhaustion was difficult enough, but the thought that my struggles were invisible to everyone else made the loneliness even harder to bear.
And I wonder how many mothers have experienced something similar.
Motherhood, particularly in the postpartum season, asks a tremendous amount of us. Our bodies are still recovering from pregnancy and childbirth, our sleep is fragmented, and our emotions may feel unfamiliar even to ourselves. Meanwhile, the needs of our babies continue regardless of how tired and overwhelmed we might be. And somehow, we are expected to hold it together enough to keep caring for them.
But somewhere amongst all this caring, who holds the mother?
Some mothers question themselves for not coping better when she cries. Perhaps she tells herself that this is simply part of motherhood, that other mothers have managed before her, or that she should be grateful to have a healthy baby. She might hesitate to speak about her struggles because she doesn't want to sound ungrateful, incapable, or as though she regrets becoming a mother. So she hunkers up and trudges on.
Of course, there is truth in acknowledging that caring for a newborn is demanding. But knowing that something is normal doesn't necessarily make it less difficult to bear.
And being grateful for our children doesn't mean we cannot also feel overwhelmed by the responsibility of caring for them.
I think what I needed in those moments wasn't necessarily someone to tell me how to get my baby to sleep, or another suggestion for establishing a better routine. Practical help would certainly have been welcome, especially if it meant getting a few hours of uninterrupted rest.
But beneath that, I needed to feel that someone understood what those long days had been like for me.
There is something deeply comforting about having another person recognise our struggles without rushing to fix them. Someone who notices that we are tired, who listens when we say the day has been difficult, and who makes room for us to be honest about feelings we may not fully understand ourselves.
This kind of emotional holding matters.
It gives us room to be vulnerable without having to defend or explain our feelings. It reminds us that we are still people with needs of our own, even as we devote so much of ourselves to meeting the needs of another.
Because when a mother is supported, she has more room to recover, to find her footing, and to respond to her baby with the care she longs to give.
Mothers spend so much of their time holding their children. They need to experience being held, too.
If you are a mother in the thick of caring for a young child, take a moment to think about how you have been feeling lately, beyond whether you have managed to get through the day's responsibilities. What would being cared for look like in this season of your life? Would it be practical help, time to rest, a listening ear, or simply someone checking in on you?
Humbly,
Elaine
Comments