I wrote this in my 4-5 month stretch of postpartum. Although my heart has shifted toward peace in the last few weeks, I felt like this piece needed to be released into the world for my friends going through that same hard, not-much-talked-about postpartum stretch. You are not alone and it does get better. Hugs.
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 every time we visit. We hold baby or hold mama, whichever she needs.
Tender is a word I never thought about until I experienced postpartum myself. Tender became the banner of ushering new life into the world and the precious, warm, teary-eyed but oh-so-happy days that followed.
The word that meant nothing to me before I had a baby, but now describes the most intimate 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 hours-long trek to Nashville just to meet my baby and me as a mama. Flowers, food, and snacks were dropped off. An outpouring of love rested me for the journey into the long nights of getting to know this newborn and my new role as his mama.
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 remember this truth so fondly 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 nurse.
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.
The flowers 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 heed their advice.
Truth is 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.
And then one day in 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.
Grace for a 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 and cut my maternity leave a week short. What 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, has changed over the last several months and I finally see the grace I owe myself.
I’m still recovering, even now. Five months wasn’t that long ago. It shocked me when I realized that. All the expectations I’ve been putting on myself feel out of place now. 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 Forrest 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. But the truth is I needed to rest just to prove to 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 Forrest that rest is God’s gift to us. My heart recalled this sentiment as I took a deep breath and decided to step out in faith that I could slow down for an hour and the world would continue spinning.
The baby was napping, and I napped too.