Like any new mother, I was ensconced in an endless stream of information about how to raise a baby. I hungrily devoured advice from friends, family and random people in toilet queues. I eagerly read parenting books and trawled online forums.
As a result, I had many expectations about how baby Charlie would operate. "The first 12 weeks are the hardest" said one friend. "By the time my babies were six months old they were sleeping through the night" said another. I can handle six months of disrupted sleep, I thought.
Looking back, I can't believe how naive I was.
For the first 12 weeks of Charlie's life, I was in a blissful bubble. I serenely floated around huddling my precious baby, content in the knowledge that all the pieces of my life were finally fitting together. Despite a few difficulties breastfeeding and dealing with dirty nappies, there was peace and a divine sense of order.
At seven weeks, Charlie slept for six hours' straight when my husband Tim and I had a weekend away at Half Moon Bay. We were elated. We had scored a low maintenance baby. I smugly told child-free friends how motherhood was easy. They were amazed at how I was taking it in my stride.
At four and a half months, the wheels started to come off. The hormones which had enveloped me in a blissful, loved-up fog were subsiding. My family had returned home to Australia. Tim was working long hours at work. And Charlie had decided that sleep was overrated. For the next 12 months, Charlie would awake at night every one-two hours.
I was floored. I couldn't work out was I was doing wrong, and I was sick with fatigue. I cried in the shower. I screamed into my pillow. I told myself I wasn't cut out to be a mother.
I had blindly clung on to the expectation that babies are supposed to sleep through the night at six months. I added to my suffering by fearing that the sleepless nights would never end. I don't know what was worse; the fatigue or the sense that I had somehow failed.
After a particularly exhausting period over Christmas, I realised that Charlie was going to miraculously improve his sleeping habits. I had to shift my attitude and let go of my expectations.
After reading Sarah Napthali's book, Buddhism For Mothers, I started to make some changes and accept my reality. I simplified my life and gave myself permission to do nothing during Charlie's nap times. I stopped comparing myself to mothers who were getting eight hours of shut-eye each night. Slowly, I began to accept my reality and comfort myself with the knowledge that this too, shall pass. And, it did.
I'm not saying that my new-found acceptance miraculously made everything better; I was still deliriously tired. I just didn't torture myself with unrealistic expectations. And that felt liberating.
Charlie is now 17 months old, and I have been enjoying 8 hour stretches of sleep for the past two months. I am aware, however, that this could all change. Whatever happens, happens.
smug phase.
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