That First Night
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The first night home from the hospital was hard. Really hard.
I was beyond tired as I literally hadn’t slept in going on 72 hours. My milk was not yet in. (Sorry if this is too much information.) My gorgeous little babe was hungry and she let it be known. How? She screamed. Wailed. It was, and is, a piercing sound, one that slices through all sense of peace.
I sat there. In our small purple pineapple library, trying. Trying to feed her. Trying to soothe her. And myself. The television was on. Tuned to some insipid reality program. The drapes were drawn. The room was dim. So was my outlook.
Even though this was, and is, my third go at this mothering business, I felt panic ripple through me. Grim thoughts paraded through my mind and limbs: This baby is different. She is unhappy. I’m doing something wrong. I felt my body stiffen and my confidence crumble. But I continued to try. And during stolen moments of quiet, when the only sounds were of sucking and reality television, I did it. I reminded myself. Of how lucky I am. We are. She is.
And so. Even in that dark first night, there were flashes of brightness. Fierce ones. Even as I felt myself sliding, I found my footing time and time again. Even as she cried, crooning cruelly in my exhausted ears, I heard something sweet. The sound of new life.
It has been almost two weeks since that night. And things have gotten much much better. I have managed to string together some hours of sleep. My milk has come. My baby is eating and sleeping and soothing remarkably well. Things are not perfect. They never are. But they are good. They really are.
But I wanted to write this. I needed to. I wanted to record, and remember, that first night home. Because it was so hard. It was a test, torturous at the time, and I passed. We all did. I wanted to write this, record this, remember this, because this? This is truth. Life has its lows, but we live through them. We are stronger than we think, aren’t we?
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Do you think there is a virtue in memorializing the tough times so we can remember – and revere – our strength as people? If you are a parent, do you remember your first night(s) home with your little one(s)?
I first read (or thought I read) I sat in the library typing. I thought, how can she feed the baby, watch TV and type? Sorry to go off subject. We are stronger than we think but our minds can derail us- the doubt, the fatigue all of it. I think all new mothers, regardless of how many prior kids can relate to that moment and sentiment you expressed.
Yes, yes, yes I think there’s value to recording the difficult times. And I recall both of the first nights home with each of my babies as very very difficult. In fact I remember my beloved pediatrician at the one week appointment asking me how they were and then, at the tears that brimmed, saying, well, those are usually the worst nights. xox
Hey Aidan — Haven’t commented since your newest beauty came along so congratulations! Sorry to hear the first night was rough but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that you aren’t alone in that tired, exhausted, “will I make it through” feeling. I went through it with my first baby and wasn’t lucky enough to say a couple weeks later that things were better. It was so hard. I’m glad you blogged about it though so that people can see that parenthood is certainly not always sunny and happy. I blogged about my PPD once ( http://serialswooper.com/2010/11/10/when-did-you-know-part-one/ ) which was a real departure from my usual chirpy, happy tone.
Glad to hear you got through that first horrid night. Each of my first nights home was horrid, although each was progressively better in hindsight. But that sense of “how can I help this little one” is strong, no matter how many times we are a new mom.
Sadly, I don’t remember my first night home with my first – perhaps it was unremarkable in a good way. But I hope that it will be the same with the second. When I look at how easy it’s been with my first, I sometimes fool myself into thinking it will be the same again, except that’s not always true, is it?
Beautiful prayer.
our first night home was easy. six hours straight, asleep on my chest. it was the subsequent nights that grew increasingly harder…i was baffled, thinking things should be getting easier instead. fast forward 9 months and we still have the occasional awful night–wailing and unsoothable and deliriously tired (each in our own turn sometimes).
i grew up in a pretty picture family, in an everything’s-ok-if-we-say-so family. i want to document the struggle of the family i’m building, to hold a more complete picture. our love can shine in the darkest of corners, but it does so best when we embrace the messiness, i think.
Oh I wish I had written down my thoughts about those first nights. All I remember is waking the first couple of months and still being tired, going through the days in a daze. But I also remember waking up every morning like it was Christmas. I couldn’t wait to see my baby each and every morning. 10 years later and I still love seeing their faces every morning.
The first few nights were rough for me for a variety of reasons. The first time around I didn’t know what to do with myself. Crying baby, crying mommy and well I didn’t cry I just sort of tried to help as best I could.
Second time I knew what to about crying baby and crying mommy. However it was different because my father had a triple bypass two days before my daughter was born. At that time we still weren’t sure whether he was going to make it.
I remember staring at my daughter wondering if her grandfather and her would get to meet each other.
I think those first moments are worth recording- so much is tied into them.
I vaguely remember those first nights, Aidan. So fuzzy. I wish, again, that I had recorded them, like you’ve done here. I do remember feeling like it would never end (it did) and have one particular memory of Henry, cocooned against me in my bed. Him. Me. Us. Hazy and gorgeous and sleepy and blissful. I think the harder memories have waned, as they do, retreating into the inky shadows.
And yes, I think that we must remember the pain. In order to celebrate the opposites of it.
I remember those nights so acutely. For me they were the second night in the hospital. With both my boys. They could not be soothed. And then we came home and I was in so much pain from c-section and I remember thinking, what have I done. But as you day, the blurs quickly blur together and you start to see the brightness.
Keep it up! And thank you for sharing.
I remember bits and pieces. The moment that you describe here didn’t really happen to me until we’d been home a few days. These stories of new motherhood are so universal. When you’re going through them the first time it’s easy to feel quite isolated and alone. Thanks for sharing this moment with us. Even today I find it heartening to read these comments and know that this is something all new mothers have endured.
I recorded the difficult times of my mother’s illness and death on my blog, and on hers as well. It helped a lot, in so many ways. There have been other difficult times that it would have been inappropriate to share, and I intended to record them in a private journal, but somehow, pen to paper didn’t work out the way I thought it would. Easier on the blog. Which makes no sense to me.
My daughter is 15 next week, so no blogging back then, to record the difficulties of engorgement, or colic, or the sweet little noises that she made, like a kitten or a pterodactyl, or something in between…
Maybe I need to get busy on a birthday post, huh?
So happy to hear that things are much better now! I cant imagine how you must have been feeling that first night home! But we are much stronger than we think!
Beautiful, Aidan.
Oh, I remember that first night so well. It was full of all you describe–fear, anxiety, joy, surrender, strength. Glad that things are better now, Aidan, and that you’re recording all of it–the highs and the lows. You are narrating her story until she can pick up the reigns and do it herself, and that is a real gift. She will know of her first days and years, and she will know you!
Oh my. Happy to hear you and baby made it through the tears. I hope things continue to be relatively smooth.
I remember the anxiety welling up inside of me as each minute towards bedtime (MY bedtime) would creep forward. And nursing my third was the worst – well, wait a minute – they all had their bumps.
I remember the third week of my daughter’s life. I was alone with her during the night because my husband had to work at the hospital. I remember crying because milk was not coming in abundance and she was crying so much. Nothing I did soothed her and I recall calling my husband with tears down my face. I remember the angst of that moment. Glad your doing much better now.
Thank you for sharing this. As I am getting closer and closer to having our baby, I find myself barely remembering those hard moments yet wanting to so bad so I can mentally prepare myself.
Yes we are stronger than we think. You passed this test, you’ve passed other tests in the pass, and you will pass tests in the future. That’s just the way it goes. We live and we learn as we go. Even in the face of panic and uncertainty. So happy that thinks have begun to run smoothly for you and your family b/c any addition is a huge transition. Always remember, even when it seems like a trial will never end… this too shall pass.
Life is full and rewarding, as we go through each day, new experiences make us stronger. My dad would always say ‘what doesn’t kill you, will cure you’.
You made it through, and now two weeks later your better, stronger step by step… well done!
those first 3 months are such a (wonderful) difficult adjustment. my posts were daaaaark when my #2 was tiny, but i think it only worried my mom;) it helped me to express it. there is such power in naming, and it reminded me that i am stronger than i sometimes feel.
grace and peace
So much of motherhood is that taste of panic and that collapsing confidence, no matter how many times you’ve been in the same situation. I like to think it unites us all … and gives us strength.