The end of the exogestation
My friend referred to the first nine months postpartum as an 'exogestation': a period of maximum infant dependency, the proximity required similar to that in the womb. At its end, the baby is likely to be moving around a little on their own, gaining the first hints of independence.
More commonly spoken about is the fourth trimester. We discussed it regularly in our NCT group, encouraging each other to keep surviving, that life would look different after the first three months were up. We even had a picnic to celebrate the end of that first quarter year! But I latched onto the term 'exogestation', having found the fourth trimester barely different from the six months following it. This was going to be the truth for us, I decided, nine months of holding and then I'd recognise my life again.
Well, here we are, she's turning nine months tomorrow. In some ways, she is entirely different from the early months: she plays by herself, she can move around (sideways, rotating, backwards, but not yet forward), she sometimes even naps without being held and can be put down on the floor without crying most of the time. But there is no let up - this is motherhood, after all!
Nights are still exhausting. Last night, I saw every hour in, I'm certain. She is in bed with us, which grants me the maximum rest possible, at least. The possible explanations are abundant online: teething (very likely here), separation anxiety (about the expected time, sure) or dummy use interfering with sleep (we are loath to admit this may be true).
I read the alternative explanations with scorn. So-called sleep consultants with no medical qualifications frighten new parents with threats of poor brain development; they use bad (or worse than bad - a complete lack of) science to suggest you can teach an infant to self-soothe. My ramblings about the prefrontal cortex and emotional regulation fall on similarly exhausted, anxious ears of my fellow new mums. I am wading through the fog of early motherhood just like my friends, lacking in confidence and looking for ways to get rest and feel normal.
I'm not sure what I'm hoping to achieve by writing these things down. Or why I'm using a public space in which to do it. But right now, it feels grounding to document my experiences and pay witness to this bewildering, beautiful new life.
More commonly spoken about is the fourth trimester. We discussed it regularly in our NCT group, encouraging each other to keep surviving, that life would look different after the first three months were up. We even had a picnic to celebrate the end of that first quarter year! But I latched onto the term 'exogestation', having found the fourth trimester barely different from the six months following it. This was going to be the truth for us, I decided, nine months of holding and then I'd recognise my life again.
Well, here we are, she's turning nine months tomorrow. In some ways, she is entirely different from the early months: she plays by herself, she can move around (sideways, rotating, backwards, but not yet forward), she sometimes even naps without being held and can be put down on the floor without crying most of the time. But there is no let up - this is motherhood, after all!
Nights are still exhausting. Last night, I saw every hour in, I'm certain. She is in bed with us, which grants me the maximum rest possible, at least. The possible explanations are abundant online: teething (very likely here), separation anxiety (about the expected time, sure) or dummy use interfering with sleep (we are loath to admit this may be true).
I read the alternative explanations with scorn. So-called sleep consultants with no medical qualifications frighten new parents with threats of poor brain development; they use bad (or worse than bad - a complete lack of) science to suggest you can teach an infant to self-soothe. My ramblings about the prefrontal cortex and emotional regulation fall on similarly exhausted, anxious ears of my fellow new mums. I am wading through the fog of early motherhood just like my friends, lacking in confidence and looking for ways to get rest and feel normal.
I'm not sure what I'm hoping to achieve by writing these things down. Or why I'm using a public space in which to do it. But right now, it feels grounding to document my experiences and pay witness to this bewildering, beautiful new life.
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