Popular media would have you believe that becoming a mother is one of the most magical moments of your life. They’re not wrong, but they leave out the messy bits: The sleepless nights, the rapidly shifting hormones, and the shoulders constantly stained with spit-up. They don’t tell you about the perpetually unsolicited advice from everyone—whether they’ve had a kid or not—and the little voice in the back of your head that makes you wonder if you’re doing anything right.
It’s easy to get overwhelmed, especially if you’re going it alone. The sleepless nights feel endless, and by the time your little ones actually do start sleeping through the night, you may wonder if you’ll ever get a full night’s sleep again.
Having a support structure helped me learn to cope, but when the world is asleep, it’s hard to find someone awake enough to answer a text message in the dead of night.
You’re not alone. I spent many a sleepless night worrying that I was doing everything wrong—a feeling compounded first by baby blues and then by postpartum depression. Having a support structure helped me learn to cope, but when the world is asleep, it’s hard to find someone awake enough to answer a text message in the dead of night. That’s where I found another tool, one I didn’t expect: mindfulness.
For context, it’s essential to understand that when I had my first child at 20, I had never been around babies. My only sibling and I are two years apart, so I never had to hold a bottle or change a diaper—at least not that I remember. I spent my entire pregnancy with older female relatives telling me that breastfeeding was instinctual. All I would have to do was put the baby to my breast, and the squealing infant would know what to do.
Cut to me, three days later, as a panicked first-time mom in the ER because my baby wouldn’t stop crying and I couldn’t get him to eat. It turns out the only thing wrong was that he wasn’t latching properly. But a staff lactation consultant helped me—and him—and we all slept pretty well that night.
Being a new mom already means being perpetually sleep-deprived, and the mistakes I was making made that state of sleeplessness even worse.
What I hadn’t realized was that there’s more to breastfeeding than instinct; rather, breastfeeding is a skill just like any other. Feeds during the day take on a routine: Feed, burp, change, and play. The same can’t be applied to nighttime. The goal of a nighttime feed is to get them fed and settled back down to sleep for a few more hours. Talking, bright lights, or changing a diaper that doesn’t need to be changed can all stimulate your infant and make it harder for them to settle back down.
I made that mistake a lot the first time around. These events took place more than 16 years ago, so largely pre-smartphone, but to pass the time, I would sit down in front of the TV or the computer—all blue-light screens that messed with our circadian rhythms. Those nighttime feedings, especially if I was the only one awake, used to get incredibly overwhelming because they felt like they stretched forever. Being a new mom already means being perpetually sleep-deprived, and the mistakes I was making made that state of sleeplessness even worse.
I spent many nights glaring at the clock as the minutes ticked by as if it was somehow the clock’s fault that the rest of the world was sleeping. The nights seemed to stretch to eternity. During one of those long nights, while I was scrolling through some parenting site—yes, I know, please learn from my mistakes—I stumbled upon the concept of mindfulness and how I could incorporate it into the nighttime feeds that seemed to drag on forever.
Experts define mindfulness as the mental state achieved by focusing one’s awareness on the present moment. It sounds simple, but when you’re counting down the seconds on the microwave so you can stop it at one second before it beeps, or watching the clock until your little one falls back asleep, it feels impossible, especially in the first few weeks after bringing your baby home.
But as my infant and I fell into a routine and practiced our breastfeeding skills, it became easier to incorporate mindfulness into these nighttime feedings. Mindfulness gave me the tools I needed to find solitude in the dark, allowing me to enjoy spending those precious moments with my infant instead of beginning to dread each time I would hear them stir.
For me, mindfulness started with breathing exercises. When I could feel my mind running away from me, I could refocus my thoughts by shifting all my focus to my breathing. Start by inhaling for a count of five, holding for a count of five, and then exhaling for the same. Focus on the feeling of the air moving into your nose, down into your lungs, and out again. If you’re a fan of visualization, you can close your eyes and picture the air moving in and out of your lungs.
Mindfulness gave me the tools I needed to find solitude in the dark, allowing me to enjoy spending those precious moments with my infant instead of beginning to dread each time I would hear them stir.
That small change made an enormous difference once I started making the active choice to stop letting myself spiral in the dark. From there, it was easier to start incorporating other facets of mindfulness. I could spend those late-night feedings focused on the moment, listening to the small sounds my infant made or learning the best way to hold or burp him to ensure he fell back asleep.
It also became easier to settle my little one down after our nighttime feedings. Instead of watching late-night infomercials or mindlessly scrolling, I could keep the screens off and focus my thoughts inward. Finding mindfulness ended up being a blessing both for my infant and me. I stopped dreading the dark and started looking forward to those quiet moments I spent alone.