“I am afraid that something bad will happen to the baby. Did it happen to you at the beginning?†I wrote in a WhatsApp group that I share with four friends, who are also new mothers. We have been friends for more than fifteen years -with some, for more than twenty- and we live in different parts of the world: two in Argentina, one in El Salvador, another in Madrid. I have lived in Barcelona for almost six years and I don’t have any friends with children in the same city.
I wrote that message when my daughter was two weeks old. A little while before, she had said the same thing to my partner. “I don’t understand. The baby is healthy. She is all good, â€she answered me. He couldn’t understand me, not because he didn’t want to, but because there are things that are only understood when they are experienced in the first person. I also did not understand my sister’s anguish after being a mother for the first time, about four years ago. He hugged her, accompanied her, but did not understand her. The puerperium is one of those non-transferable experiences, which cannot be explained, which does not fit into words.
“I was afraid that I would fall down the stairs with the baby or that he would stop breathing in his sleep. They are all logical fears. What I did was receive that thought, accept it, tell myself: “I am not thisâ€, and let it goâ€, one of my friends replied. “The same thing happened to me. At first I had a hard time about it. It’s good to share feelings so you don’t feel alone. But you know that what happens to you is normal,” said another. What happens to you is normal. How important it is to be told that at a time when you feel so out of place.
The first few weeks after giving birth were like being on a hiatus. I was not (yet) me. It was a very bad sleep, hypersensitive and exhausted version. I didn’t quite recognize my body, inflamed and flaccid at the same time, still sore and with staples in the cesarean section scar. Meeting my baby was something that moved and overwhelmed me in equal proportions. Loving so much makes you dizzy. “Please, I need you to always be well”, she repeated to me silently, as if it were a mantra, in an attempt to scare away the horrible scenarios that assailed me.
Despite having taken all kinds of courses during my pregnancy – sleep, first aid, prenatal and even baby massage – I never felt so useless as during the first days. I didn’t understand my baby’s cries nor did I know how to calm them down. How do you bathe a newborn baby? How much do you have to shelter her? How do you know if she is eating well? Being a mother was (and is) much more difficult than I had imagined.
I felt like I was never going to sleep three hours straight again. That she was going to live from lactation crisis to lactation crisis. Having others who have already gone through the same thing gives you perspective. “Calm downâ€, “Everything happensâ€, “It’s timeâ€, “Patienceâ€, “Don’t stressâ€, they told me.
“Do you ever sleep for eight hours?†asked one of my desperate friends. “At the beginning it is like that, there is a lot of demand. But little by little they are taking fewer shots and sleep is improving. It’s progressive,” replied one, who already has a three-year-old child. “Being the first mom in the group, I had no one to talk to about these things. It is super important to have a support network, to have friends who have gone through the same thing, â€she said in another message.
The hard thing about that parenthesis is that it can get very lonely. That is why it is so important to be able to look at yourself in friendly mirrors. Being able to spit out the most horrible thoughts or the most unusual doubts and on the other side find an “I understand youâ€, a “it happened to me tooâ€. Listening to that echo helps you not feel guilty or inadequate.
“How was the postpartum sexual issue for you? I have no desire. It hurts… Has it happened to anyone?†I asked a few months later. “My libido also dropped. I feel genderless. Zero desire for sex. At first it did hurt. Not anymore, but it’s hard for me. We use lubricating gelsâ€, answered one. “The same thing happened to me. It hurt a lot and my libido was set elsewhere. But don’t worry, everything settles down with time. The desire returns and the pain goes away â€, followed another. “It’s good to know what’s happening to all of them!” one rounded off. Sometimes the words feel like hugs, even if you read them through a screen.
My cell phone, during this time, was much more a meeting point than a disconnection point for me. Not only with my mother friends, but also with my sister. She had her second child a week after me, only more than six thousand miles away. WhatsApp was like a bridge, which allowed us to be together even though we really weren’t. During our children’s first three months, we exchanged over 4,200 text messages, 190 audio messages, and 250 photos. Those of us who live far from our countries know that many times it is not necessary to be there, to be there.
“In this case, although it is a digital connection, it is not alienating. It is not like Instagram or other social networks, which do generate more anxiety, because what you see are perfect mothersâ€, my psychologist told me when I explained to her that she was going to write this article. “It doesn’t matter if you are far from your country or not. The fact of having a group of peers, with people who are in your same situation, makes you lessen the idealization of the mother’s role and humanize it, â€she pointed out.
“We must be careful with what we consume on social networks. Many post a photo of the newborn with the phrase ‘Love at first sight’. Those kinds of things can do a lot of damage. That may not be the first thing you feel, no matter how much you love your child. I don’t remember much of that moment. I was shaking from the anesthesia, I was frustrated that I had a C-section, I had a lot on my mind. Suddenly you can feel worse mom if you don’t have that same feeling,†a friend told me in an audio message.
Perhaps the most delicate thing is that in truth many influencers do not define themselves as “perfect” moms, but rather as authentic and real. They also have a messy house and feel tired. But, from what they show in their stories and posts, they seem to get to do it all and well. If they, who claim to be imperfect, can, why can’t I? Maybe it’s just that I’m not trying hard enough.
“It is a moment of vulnerability, in which you are very sensitive and permeable. The message is not so much ‘live your maternity as best you can’, but rather that they sell you a way of how to do things. If you don’t do it that way, many times they end up generating more guilt and pressure for youâ€, says this same friend, although she adds: “I’m sure there are mothers who feel identified and accompanied by these profiles, and that’s perfect. But you should not take everything they say as the truth.
“Having our WhatsApp group made me understand that we all go through the same thing and that there is no right solution. In pregnancy, you are bombarded with ideas of how to do things. When the baby is born, you realize that each one really does what she can. And that what works for one may not work for the other. It is not that one way is right and the other is wrongâ€, says another, also by audio message.
If someone were to review our chat, they would find -in addition to memes and funny videos- a decalogue of tips of all kinds. What there are no recipes: “I don’t know, there are different theories. What worked for me was this…â€, says one. None – not even the pediatrician of the group – writes in the imperative. At best -and only when asked for a medical indication-, she says “what is usually recommended is…”, although she clarifies: “Consult your pediatrician”.
There is no “what you have to do is…†or “what your baby needs is…â€. And that helps. Because then there is no correct formula. We are all testing and each attempt is valid. Sometimes we succeed, other times we fail and, little by little, we learn to do it better and better. Along the way, we support each other and celebrate each step we take. We accompany each other, even at a distance.
