Hey there, I see you.
I understand what you’re going through. I’ve walked that path, and let me tell you, it’s tough. As I sit here in my cozy booth at Panera, all showered and made up, sipping my hot coffee before it turns cold, I can’t help but notice you. You’re here, juggling a fussy baby while I’m enjoying a rare moment of peace.
I can tell you’re having a challenging day. Your messy ponytail, the shirt worn inside out, and those yoga pants that have seen better days all tell a story. The overstuffed stroller, a diaper bag bursting at the seams, and the dark circles under your eyes reveal the exhaustion you’re feeling. And that sweet little one in your arms? The constant wails echo loudly in my ears.
I see your struggle. How old is she? Oh, fourteen weeks—prime time for colic, huh? I can see you bouncing her, holding her close, trying to keep it together in the midst of all the chaos. You had that moment this morning when the baby’s cries filled the nursery, and you realized you had to escape or you might just lose it. You gently wrapped her in her favorite pink blanket, praying for strength as you strapped her into the carrier. I can picture you leaning against the kitchen counter, savoring the brief moment without a baby in your arms, searching for your keys and coat as if they belonged to someone else.
You thought, “We just need some fresh air.” A change of scenery seemed like the perfect solution. But as you sat at the stoplight, you must have felt the weight of exhaustion pulling at you, tempting you to close your eyes for just a minute. Yet, you pushed through. “I’m a mom now. She’s my priority,” I bet you told yourself.
I notice that tired look on your face, a reminder of those long nights spent pacing the floor, hoping for just a few moments of peace. I see the tears brimming in your eyes as your partner heads off to a day of adult responsibilities while you’re left with another round of bouncing and soothing. I can feel your desire to give in, to admit that this fussy, colicky baby isn’t what you had envisioned when you saw those two lines on the pregnancy test.
But as I watch you, I see strength. I see resilience in those arms cradling your baby and determination in those legs that rock the stroller for miles. I hear the silent vow in your weary sigh: “I will get through this.” You know this phase won’t last forever; eventually, the crying will cease, and you’ll find yourself missing that little voice calling for the one person who loves her most—you.
As you balance your fussy baby and take a sip of your coffee, I spot that brief moment of relief on your face. It’s fleeting, but it’s there, and I see you. I’ve been there too. One day, you’ll sit where I am—makeup done, hair in place, coffee in hand. I promise.
If you’re looking for more support, check out this informative post on intracervical insemination. And if you’re curious about home insemination options, this resource can help guide you. For those considering fertility treatments, March of Dimes offers excellent guidance.
Summary
This heartfelt note acknowledges the struggles of new moms dealing with fussy babies, sharing empathy and solidarity while highlighting the strength found in motherhood. It encourages moms to remember that this challenging phase will pass, and offers links to helpful resources for home insemination and fertility.