Dear Nuclear Baby

*I am writing this from a place of unwaivering love — place of zero judgement — and out of the realization that motherhood is perhaps one of the most challenging and emotionally tasking jobs out there.

**Please also note that I have become a big sopping soggy sac of mush since becoming a mama. If you can handle that, best not to continue reading.

Dear Nuclear Baby (a nickname my long-time friend so appropriately gave you),

I love you so very much and only want to cuddle you and welcome you into this world with love. I want you to view your home as warm and inviting, and for you to feel safe and secure. As we are reaching the end of your newborn phase and the fourth trimester, it’s hard for me to believe how fast the time has gone by and how much you have grown.

And when I say “grown”, I am not only referring to your emotional and cerebral transformation. I am speaking about your physical growth. You have exploded into this world quite literally. Today, you weight a whopping 18 lbs and I am both immensely proud and utterly destroyed. You are the weight of a 8 month old with the floppiness and needs of a newborn.

My instinct is to have you in my arms. To hold you and tell you that this world loves you. That both me and J love you. That you have changed our world completely. This modern world is filled with gadgets created specifically to entertain you and remove your need for our constant attention and reassurance (case an point, the SNOO). ┬áBut I don’t want you to be raised by a robot. I want to be your anchor. I want to earn the title of “mama”. You want to be held, and I want to fulfill your need. I want to cherish this time before you learn to stand on your own two feet.

But every day it gets harder and harder. I can feel my weakness the longer we are together. Last week, J started grunting when lifting you out of bed and I knew it was not just the lack of muscles in my sloppy postpartum body.

Our time together feels bittersweet. Nursing is bittersweet. As your tiny little hands dance around and you smile, I savor these tender moments while thinking I am only fueling you to grow bigger. Each day I hold you a bit less. And when I cannot soothe you any longer, I feed you. And think to myself that you will only be heavier tomorrow.

So in the meantime, I will hold you for as long as possible. I will use you as motivation to become stronger. And I will learn that motherhood is all about letting go, even when you’re not quite ready. They don’t kid, folks. #momguilt is real.

Ali (mom)


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *