When I look back on my pregnancies and finding out about my babies I always think about our first scan. The first time we heard our babies’ heartbeats and saw them in their little sac. It is a surreal, scary and emotional time and it lasts just a handful of minutes.
From sitting in the waiting room anxiously waiting for my name to be called; to lying on the table with the loud, scratchy paper beneath me while the sonographer squeezes a cold, jelly like substance on my little bump.
It seems like hours but in reality it’s just a few minutes. And then there is the waiting. The silence where I held my husband’s hand too tight and closed my eyes until I heard that fast beat and cautiously opened my eyes and saw my baby for the first time.
I cried both times seeing and hearing my little baby boys and then I bombarded the sonographer with question after question.
That first scan makes the the hypothetical; real. Turns the fun conversations about starting a family to reality. But it also makes you exhale and hopefully start to enjoy your pregnancy journey.
I know that the 12 week scan can turn to heartache. I wish it didn’t for lots of families but I know the pain will come from not hearing the tiny beat and hearing some awful, heartbreaking words from the sonographer. My thoughts are with all those mums and dads
I came late to the Mum-Party. I didn’t get pregnant with my first son until I was 35 and he was born a week after I turned 36. During my pregnancy (which was NOT the easiest!) I felt intrepidation, like most mums-to-be, but I thought..”Hey! How hard can it be?!” Women have been “Becoming Mum” for YEARS! I got this! It’s a natural part of life!
WRONG! Oh…haha! How wrong I was! After a VERY LONG labour and delivery my little son was placed in my arms and I thought…now what?! Oh! I had to breastfeed! What the actual HECK?! The only breastfeeding I had ever tried was during NCT class with a crocheted breast and a baby doll…this squirming new born and my massive postnatal boob was not cooperating with each other! There were tears (mostly me) and then there was some latching and HOLY HELL no one said it would be that painful! But my little man seemed to be getting milk so we were all happy (I found out about 5 days later that he hadn’t been getting any and then I had my first bout of “MUM GUILT” – that’s definitely another post!)
In those early few weeks and months the confident 30-something year old women who had lived abroad and performed on stage and relied on her belief in herself was reduced to a timid, second-guessing, weeping shell. I realised very quickly that it was implied that I should know exactly what to do in every situation, which I really didn’t and no matter how many books I read on “Becoming Mum” could prepare me for the little life that relied solely on me! I had held babies before in the past but was always very tentative with them…never wanting to break them 🙂 Now I was doing everything for the little man and everyone seemed to think that I should know what to do. That it was intuitive. To a point it was, I guess. I mean my mum instinct to keep safe, feed and take care of him came into play but little things like..how to bathe him, how to deal with a poonami nappy, how to soothe him, how to make bottles etc…was all new and at every turn when I felt I didn’t know what to do and had to ask for help, I felt like a failure.
The months went by, my newborn became more robust and his little personality started to show. I started to heal (physically and mentally) after a very traumatic delivery (another post!) and my confidence started to return. Now I’m a mother to TWO little boys and to tell you the truth I am still figuring how to navigate this motherhood malarky but confident Steph is emerging again and making friends with Mum Steph…I think we will be a formidable team!
Have you experienced the loss of confidence? If so, what were some lessons you learned? Comment below and share!