TL:DR: The work of motherhood is wrapped in grace and labor. Let’s take a moment to see the new mothers who are slowly inching their way out of postpartum as real life moves at warp speed. Take this encouragement for the new mom who needs to believe she can nap when the baby naps. Grace greater than we can even imagine will sustain you.
When I had a newborn, they told me to nap when the baby naps.
People get that a new mama is exhausted.
We head up meal trains, deliver coffee, and leave snack baskets at the front door. We offer to bring more coffee and wash the dishes when we visit. We hold baby or hold mama, whichever she needs.
Tender is a word I never thought about until I experienced postpartum myself. Yet, it became the banner of ushering in new life and the precious, warm, teary-eyed but oh-so-happy days that followed.
It meant nothing to me before I had a baby, but now “tender” describes the most intimate and true details of my postpartum experience.
Gratitude also took on a whole new meaning upon coming home with my baby. I remember the family who made the trek to Nashville just to meet this newly born baby and his mama for the first time. Flowers, food, and snacks were dropped off. An outpouring of love rested me for the journey into the long nights of getting to nurture this tiny human.
Postpartum transformed me into a lot of things, including a more grateful person.
Through the church, the Lord provided for my family as we learned what it entailed to care for one another. I fondly remember this truth as I look back on those long days of trying not to push myself too hard, while yet needing to gently soldier through those long nights of learning how to breastfeed.
Welcoming a baby into the world is a both/and experience. It is both joyous and tearful. Both oddly intuitive and often confusing. Both challenging and yet vignetted in love and sincerity to the glory of God.
But the flowers for mama eventually wilted.
They told me to nap when the baby naps. I got this advice before I’d ever gone into labor and I didn’t really understand it then.
I heard it again once we were home with baby. Nap when the baby naps. But I halfheartedly listened. My desire to be productive as he napped won.
Eventually the flowers on the table wilted and the visits from visitors slowed down. We made work plans and coordinated childcare. I don’t remember when the meal train stopped, but at some point, life resumed to normal – or at least the long process of discovering what’s normal as a bigger family now.
Truth is I didn’t take this encouragement to heart.
I never really did nap when the baby napped because I couldn’t get away from the growing list of things I should be doing. I eased back into my rhythms and routines quickly. Not to mention I couldn’t bear not being near him that much. In some ways, I felt unworthy of believing this encouragement for new moms.
And then in the dead of winter January, somewhere in that 4th month of postpartum, I broke down. As I ran behind to make it to work with the baby in tow and a list of other things on my brain, I broke down. I cried with the baby, and I told him, “I’m trying, baby, I’m trying so hard.”
Because in a short breadth of time, everything that had changed with the birth of my baby went back to “normal.” I blinked and suddenly I was the one preparing meal trains even though I didn’t know what my family would eat for dinner that night. I was filling in the calendar, knowing full well I’d not had longer than a 5 hour stretch of sleep at one time in months.
In that moment, I wished I’d napped when the baby napped. I wished I’d not rushed to get back to this new normal. I longed for the tender permission that the slow healing period of postpartum welcomes.
The grace I see in my rushed beginning.
Those early postpartum days are just the beginning of a long healing journey. I didn’t understand that until I was out of it. “Bounce back” is the message I believed. I thought I needed to go out to dinner when he was 4 days old to prove how tough I was. I cut my maternity leave a week short because the budget was tight, and I felt up for it, so why not? Who was I if not back to business sooner rather than later?
But I look back at how much my entire world, down to the very skin I live in, changed over those early months of newly ordained motherhood. And I finally see the grace I owe myself.
At the time of writing this, I’m five months postpartum. And I’m still recovering, even now. The realization that five months wasn’t that long ago shocked me when I sat in the truth. All the harsh expectations I’d put on myself melted away. I’m still so new at this.
My heart feels like a lifetime has passed, but my head knows it’s only been days in eternity.
And when I think back on the woman I have been in these days – a woman who has given her very body to the service of loving God and the life He has made – I just want to hug her. I want to hold her close and give her permission to rest in the fruit of her labor. I want to promise her she doesn’t need to be anything more than to be held by God in her moment of vulnerability.
I got the baby down for a nap this afternoon.
His eyelids fluttered and I swear I could count his eyelashes. I remembered that loving advice, “Nap when the baby naps.”
In an act of faithful obedience, and maybe even a twinge of defiance toward all the ways I’ve allowed the bounce-back message to seep into my narrative, I put away everything and rested.
I could tell you about the emotionally stressful week I’d felt at work or the daunting, busy weekend ahead. I could show you my to-do list or recount all the things that are vying for my attention. But the truth is I needed to rest just to practice the belief within myself that I am held closely by God; even if absolutely nothing had happened in the week, I’d still need this message.
He is my strength when I’m scrambling to do it all. And He is my strength when my head hits the pillow and my heart whispers prayers until my body falls asleep.
He is my strength when I’m scrambling to do it all.
And He is my strength when my head hits the pillow and my heart whispers prayers until my body falls asleep.
I often tell my baby that rest is God’s gift to us. My heart recalled this sentiment as I took a deep breath. I decided to believe in faith that I could slow down for an hour and the world would continue spinning.
I finally took the encouragement for new moms I’d long run from: the baby was napping, so I napped too.