I’m currently immersed in the whirlwind of the newborn phase: my little one is just 12 days old. Honestly, I’ve lost track of the time; days and nights seem to blend together, and I’ve barely stepped outside. I can’t recall the last time I showered, what I last ate, or where my sanity (or slippers) has wandered off to.
Yet, amidst the chaos, I find myself surprisingly content with this sleep-deprived stage. Maybe it’s the fatigue talking, but hear me out. When else in life is it socially acceptable to pour every ounce of energy into caring for a tiny human, without worrying about anything else?
Is there any other time when the aroma of fresh coffee in the morning feels like such a luxury? And you know what? That messy bun on my head is starting to feel like a badge of honor.
My body has transformed in ways I never expected. Sure, I can’t do anything glamorous with my breasts, and I know they won’t last forever, but right now? They’re pretty remarkable. As for my “wardrobe”—a selection of mismatched, ill-fitting clothes—I couldn’t care less. There are no fashion rules in this round-the-clock job, and thankfully, my baby isn’t critiquing my attire (well, except for the occasional judgmental glance from my toddler).
My skin, especially my face, is grateful for this break from makeup. I can let it breathe for once. Plus, the encouragement from friends and family warms my heart, particularly those who truly understand what I’m going through. For instance, my friend Mia brought over freshly baked muffins this morning, which I devoured without a hint of guilt.
In this moment, nobody expects anything more from me. If they do, I genuinely don’t care. I’m not fully functional during the day, but I’m not planning on operating heavy machinery anyway. My body needs time to recover.
I can be silly without fear of judgment—like putting hair ties in the fridge or asking why my baby isn’t purring like my cat. It’s all part of the experience, and it’s okay.
The best part? I have nowhere else to be but here. During those late-night feedings, it feels like we are the only ones awake in the world. My only responsibility is to care for this little being, who also has no obligations except to be with me. There are no schedules, playdates, or distractions. It’s just us.
I can hear the house settling and the soft sounds of him feeding. If I listen closely, I can even hear the chaos of my mind quieting down. Of course, I have my worries and anxieties, and sometimes it feels like a horror movie plays in my head as I unravel from the tension of pregnancy. But despite it all, I’m grateful for this moment.
I remember a sweet nurse named Elena from the hospital who offered invaluable breastfeeding tips. “Pull him closer,” she advised, “he’s-a gonna want to stay at the end, because it’s-a less work for him.” She said that if I didn’t keep him awake during feeding, he’d want to lounge there all day. Then she paused and said something that has stuck with me: “After all, it’s the best place in the whole world.”
She was right. In those late-night moments, surrounded by my little one, I realize how fortunate I am. I have a safe home and a cozy bed to return to after those exhausting feeds. I may not have all the answers or understand everything, but I know I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
This is the best place in the world.
For more insights on home insemination, check out this resource. You can also find a great selection of tools for your journey at Make a Mom. And if you want to dive even deeper into the world of home insemination, take a look at this blog post.
Summary
In this heartfelt reflection, the author shares the joys and challenges of the newborn phase, embracing the chaos and sleep deprivation. Amidst the exhaustion, they find gratitude for the present moment, the bond with their baby, and the simple pleasures of life.