It took three months, but I finally had my Charlotte York crying in the kitchen pantry moment.
It’s 7:30pm on the hottest day in Ireland on record. Irish houses are built to keep the heat IN, so it’s been a full military operation to keep my twelve week old daughter, Louise, from overheating. I have no desire to turn on my oven and have been eating cereal for most meals lately due to the heat and sheer exhaustion. But no, tonight I decide I will have a healthy, nourishing meal.
It’s the tail end of a long day of solo parenting. To top things off, my husband got a flat tire on his way home from work. He won’t be home for another hour and a half.
Louise has been inconsolable for hours off and on. I try everything to soothe her and stop the screaming. Feeding, changing, winding, cuddling, rocking, bouncer, buggy, bed, walking, floor time, tummy time. I try it all again.
Finally, I get her calmed down and decide that it’s now or never. I’ll make dinner. I’m starving and it will be great to have a real meal for the first time today. I’m breastfeeding, so I’m always conscious that I’m eating enough.
I begin. As soon as I’m midway through chopping, Louise starts again. I need to be fast so that she doesn’t get super worked up. You know when you’re already in a bad mood and then your sleeve gets caught on the door handle? That’s what cooking this meal felt like.
I’d pull out a knife and it would randomly be dirty. No kitchen roll when I went to grab it. I boiled the kettle, but after five minutes I noticed it wasn’t plugged in.
Through all the screaming and frantic running around my kitchen (see: sauna), I had to feed the dog as well. Like a mad woman, I scramble to his food in his bowl and place it in front of him. Good boy. No. Now he’s refusing to eat it. Minutes wasted. Baby crying gets louder.
I soothe Louise for a bit, because I know the grand finale is coming. I need to fry the salmon. I’ll have to watch it carefully or it will burn and everything will be ruined. Shhh. I hold her and sway her just the way she likes. She calms down. I might just make it to the finish line.
But alas, as soon as the fish skin kisses the pan, Louise SCREAMS. She gets louder and louder and louder. I put her in her bouncer and I spend a few minutes walking back and forth between her and the hot pan.
Then I realise I forgot to put the pasta in the boiling water. Now the meal will take an extra 10 minutes longer to finish. I cut open the bag of penne and begin to pour the cute little tubes of pasta into the pot. Well, whatever way I cut the bag, the pasta goes EVERYWHERE except into the water.
My counter, hob, and floor are now covered in dried penne pasta. To top it all off, my dog, who wouldn’t eat his food, is now crunching on rock hard pasta practically breaking his teeth that we just spent 200 euro to have professionally cleaned last week.
I lose it.
I feel the tears rising. I throw the bag of pasta into the sink. All the baby books come to mind. If it all gets to be too much, place the crying child somewhere safe and go to another room for a minute. Louise was safe. I went outside and hysterically cried on my back step.
Just for a minute, I sat there. I knew I had to go in again and it physically pained me to hear her so upset. But I was maxed out and afraid of my own frustration.
Generally, Louise is a very easy baby and my postpartum experience so far has been pretty positive. As I write that, I feel the need to justify. My pregnancy was painful and emotionally all over the place, so it’s okay if I found the first few weeks easier than what I’ve heard from other mothers.
But if I’m totally honest, this new chapter is hard. At three months old, Louise needs more stimulation, more attention, and more maintenance. She watches my every move and cries if I dare go out of sight for even a second. Her naps are unpredictable. I sometimes wear her in a baby carrier to get things done, but on hot summer days, I worry about her overheating with my body warmth.
This age brings new challenges, but also it offers up some beautiful moments as well. Her first big smiles and laughs. She is starting to goo and gah. She’s much more alert. We even played peek-a-boo the other day. Her little personality is starting to come through. She’s sleeping longer stretches (thank God!). Still, I’m finding it harder than ever to keep life going around her.
Normally, I would wrap up a post like this with a little motivational pep talk to myself, but I won’t this time. I won’t go on about how this is a season and she won’t be this small forever. I won’t lament that there will come a day when she is independent and won’t need me in this way anymore. I’m just sitting with the reality that I’m finding this chapter really hard for some reason.
Here on Substack, I aim to stay honest. Sometimes I miss my old life. Pre-baby. And that’s okay.
The funny thing is… motherhood got a tiny bit easier when I finally admitted to myself that it’s hard.
Just a little confession to you all because I know I can’t be the only one.
What’s been the toughest part of motherhood for you so far? Newborn days? Teething? Toddler stage? I’d love to know how you got through it and any advice you have for a new mom like myself.
Thank you for reading Keep This In Mind! If this newsletter resonated with you, please leave a comment, like, or share with someone you think would enjoy reading. It would mean the world to me.
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