I’m sitting at my kitchen table, bleary-eyed beside my son in his high-chair as he refuses to eat–again. I’ve read that he should be eating four times as much as he actually eats now. I’ve also read that he should be sleeping eight-ten hours straight at night but he woke up five or six times last night. I lost count.
Defeated, I sit, fatigue pulling at my muscles like the weight of water. The voice of doubt is louder when I’m tired
I’m a failure, I think. He won’t eat, he won’t sleep. I’ve failed.
A few hours later I’m FaceTiming with my sister and her son who is two months older than my son.
“I’m a failure,” I lament.
She laughs. “If you’re a failure then so am I. My guy didn’t want to sleep last night and yesterday he refused his second nap.”
No, I would never think of her as a failure.
Just myself.
Why?
Why is it easy for me to judge myself but give grace to other mommas? I think about what I would say to another momma struggling with the same things I am.
Momma,
You are not a failure. Not even a little. You are oh so tired.
I see the bags under your eyes. It’s been almost nine months since you slept well. You’ve been caring for your son for that long, seeing that he’s fed, loved, safe, and cared for at every second even when it means putting yourself last. Even when it means you get a five-hour stretch of sleep one night and the next night consists of one-two or three hours naps.
You have given him your body and your time. You have loved him fiercely. Sometimes you’ve loved him so much your worry has kept you awake at night when you should be sleeping. I know you’re working on this. I know you’re trying to give your anxiety to God. You’re not a failure there either. It’s hard to trust, to let go when the stress of little sleep is tugging at even your happiness.
You are not a failure because your son won’t sleep long stretches every night. Remember, last month? He hardly slept more than two or three hours straight for five weeks. You were at the end of yourself. You tried everything your momma heart could think of from night weaning to bedsharing. Nothing worked well. Then, you tried something new and he slept well!
Hush Momma, he is okay. He loves you so much. Sometimes he will sleep six hours straight and you’ll be checking your clock and thanking God, and other nights you will be in and out of his room more times than you can count. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re sitting here writing this, aren’t you? God is sustaining you even now.
You are not a failure. You are a loving momma who is trying to understand what her son needs when he can’t tell you with his words. You are learning the language of his cries, his sleep, his hunger. You are his momma.
And, Momma, you are not a failure because your son won’t eat. He does eat, remember? He loves refried beans, french fries (I know you didn’t mean for him to like those), green beans, and rice pilaf. Sure, those aren’t all the most nutritious things but, Momma, I see you trying so hard. I see you buying apples and pears and sweet potatoes at the grocery store, hoping that if you fix them just right, he’ll eat. I see you buying baby food books and special silicon utensils for him. I see you trying to play the airplane game and loading his spoon for him to hold. You are trying, Momma, and nothing you are doing equates to a failure. Everything showes you care and love him.
Hey Momma, I see you trying. You are giving so much of yourself. You love your baby more than anything and that’s what counts. As long as you love him and try, you are not a failure.
It’s easy to get discouraged when we are struggling, but momma, don’t let that voice in your head win.
You are not a failure.
You are a good momma,
Much love,
