zenmama

This post was particularly challenging to write as I recapped my birth story and navigated the uncharted waters of new motherhood. In those early months as a freshly minted mama, there were moments when I felt troubled, stressed, and yearned for an escape. I battled with the need to become a good enough mother to my child. But as I found my footing and built my support system, the path of motherhood became easier to traverse. They say pregnancy is tough, but the trimester after birth (aka the fourth trimester) was equally, if not more, challenging. Let’s dive into this rollercoaster ride.

Hours before delivery day!

We had planned for a c-section delivery, as our little guy stubbornly refused to turn head down. Personally, I wasn’t keen on delivering naturally, fearing complications due to my petite frame. My OB/GYN reassured me that a natural birth wouldn’t be a problem, but with our little one’s refusal to cooperate, the choice was made for us.

In those final hours before the birth, I savoured a quiet solitude, mentally preparing myself to welcome our bundle of joy. I even indulged in a last hurrah – a McDonald’s meal before heading to the hospital. Thereafter, needing to fast from 2 am on delivery day (no food or drink) was a small price to pay for the adventure ahead.

We checked into the hospital at midnight where we filled up the form to donate our baby’s cord blood to the Singapore Cord Blood bank, which would ensure that we’d have access to not just our baby’s but also their library of cord blood available.

When the dust settled at 3 am, I was kept awake by the flurry of emotions that crept in, whispering fears about the birth, but I clung on to hope, reminding myself of the smooth pregnancy I had, and hoping the birth would be just as smooth. That said, I didn’t sleep a wink that night.

It’s delivery day!

Anxiety gripped me as I sleepily waited to be wheeled into the delivery room. My husband’s attempts at lighthearted banter were appreciated but short-lived as I was whisked away to the operating theatre before him. The epidural administration was a shock – I embarrassed myself by swearing in front of the nurses, but I supposed they understood the intensity of the moment.

After the epidural, the surreal experience of hearing the OB/GYN squelchy-ly slicing into my abdomen while feeling nothing was absolutely bizarre. Soon after, my husband entered, holding my hand, and grounding me. The anesthesiologist became my unexpected ally, reassuring me it was okay to sleep through the procedure.

In what felt like mere moments, a cry pierced the air – our baby had arrived! My husband’s excited announcement about our son’s full head of hair seemed comically out of place, but it was a moment of pure joy amidst the clinical surroundings. The moment my son was placed in my arms, I felt the piercing desire to be the bestest mum I could be to him; I would love and protect him, always. 

The first days of motherhood

The hospital stay was a whirlwind of visitors, vital checks, and feeding attempts. I learnt the hard way that limiting visitors and prioritising rest was crucial. The real challenge began at midnight when our little one’s hunger truly kicked in. Before the breastmilk kicks in babies feed on colostrum. In my case, It was actually not easy to collect colostrum, some babies can latch on to your nipples, while others, like my child can’t. It largely depended on the size and shape of your nipples, or your child. For me, the collecting of colostrum was a slow and arduous process of squeezing and pinching. To help with the process, I had to be patient with myself and sought guidance from lactation consultants at the hospital.

Returning home was overwhelming. Tears flowed freely, and my husband was caught off guard. Was it hormones? A brush with postpartum depression? The emotions were complex and hard to define.

As a new mother, I grappled with the concept of being “good enough” for my son. Well-meaning advice and opinions from others often felt suffocating, and I struggled with trying to please them while trying to be good enough for my son. Breastfeeding struggles left me feeling like a failure, despite my best efforts.

During this time, I was glad to have my confinement nanny around. She became an unexpected source of support, offering encouragement when I needed it most. The confinement period is typically a month long and it was a rollercoaster of emotional struggles for me. I struggled with providing enough breastmilk for my child and since I was recovering from my c-section surgery and couldn’t attend to most of my child’s needs, I felt like a failure. Her reminders to be gentle with myself during recovery were invaluable, and it was exactly what I needed – support and validation; that I was doing a great job as a new mother, and I should focus on recovery. She would say that we hired her to care for not just my child’s well-being, but mine and my husband’s. She would cook up a feast for us and became like family to us. I was sad when she went home.

Challenges of the fourth trimester and beyond

After confinement, I embraced being a full-time mother to our son, while my husband returned to work full-time. I was caring for my son and attending to household chores alone most of the time. In the first three months, it felt like a breeze. I could eat or watch movies or read while our son lay in his crib, sleeping or playing with his overhead mobile. However, being alone with my son most of the time was a double-edged sword. I cherished our bonding time, but I also longed for adult conversation and a sense of my old self.

Before the four-month mark, our son was a happy baby who wouldn’t refuse a bottle. Suddenly, his feeds dropped off a cliff from an average of 150ml a feed to 10ml a feed. While our friends had equipped us with knowledge of the ‘four-month sleep regression,’ we were instead blindsided by our son’s feeding regression.

Watching him refuse milk and lose weight was heart-wrenching. I felt like a failure, blaming myself for inadvertently causing his feeding aversion. Each rejected bottle felt like a personal failure. I had to remind myself constantly that this wasn’t about me – my son was going through his own struggles, and we were in this together. My son needed me to be his pillar, and that kept me going.

Mental health became a pressing concern. Thoughts of inadequacy plagued me throughout that first year, a constant whisper of doubt in my mind. I lost sight of who I was before motherhood, becoming a stranger to myself – grumpy, tired, and short-fused. It was a lonely, confusing time, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever.

My husband’s intervention was a turning point. With his encouragement, I sought help from my therapist, who helped calm my thoughts and encouraged me to be kinder to myself. We also hired a live-in helper to take on the general house cleaning and cooking. These steps allowed me to rediscover parts of myself beyond motherhood, and I found pockets of time to write, design, and get creative again!

Joys in love and companionship

As the saying goes, “it takes a village to raise a child” – and my village consisted of my husband, where we knew we could count on each other for support and love. Knowing that I had that support from my husband brought us closer and made it easier to ask for help when things got tough.

Motherhood may have sounded daunting, but at the end of each day, I found that there was no greater joy than watching our little one grow and hit his milestones. Watching my son play, laugh, crawl towards me for comfort, or even cry brought me nothing but pure joy. Together with my husband, we celebrated these small wins as a family, creating precious memories that outweighed the challenges.

The sleepless nights and difficult moments were softened by the tender sight of my husband cradling our son, or the shared laughter when our baby did something unexpectedly cute. These moments of shared parenthood strengthened our bond, reminding us that we were on this beautiful journey together.

As we navigated the ups and downs of new parenthood, we discovered new depths to our relationship. We learnt to communicate more openly, to lean on each other’s strengths, and to find moments of connection amidst the chaos. Our love grew in ways we hadn’t anticipated, enriched by the shared experience of raising our child.

Learning confessions

Through this journey, I’ve learnt the importance of self-kindness. The myth of the “perfect mother” is just that – a myth. It’s about making the most of our resources and being patient with our circumstances. Babies change, and so do we as parents.

To all the new mamas out there: don’t be afraid to seek help and confide in those you trust. Remember to breathe, trust the process, and know that you’re doing an amazing job. The path of motherhood is winding and sometimes foggy, but with each step, we grow stronger and wiser.

You’re doing great, mama! xx

* This article is my personal account on motherhood. *