Like most people who blog, I often write my blog posts in my head through out the day. I write a blog post while I’m running. I mentally file a quote or a moment of realization while I’m practicing yoga. I think of all the things I want to share while I watch my boys play. The first few weeks of Chet’s life, I wrote A LOT of blog posts in my head that never found their way to paper (or computer). I had heard that some babies are born into world needing a fourth trimester. I had heard that our babies would remain in our bodies for this 4th trimester if we were physically able to carry them for another 8 weeks. Chet proved to be one of those babies. I have five drafts of a blogs titled “The Fourth Trimester” waiting for me to write something past the first paragraph.
I never found words past the first paragraph. If I did find the words, I never found the time to write them. I was busy soothing a baby (and a mama) who were living through the fourth trimester. We all know Chet waited until he got an eviction notice to leave my belly. I shouldn’t have been surprised that his nervous system wasn’t ready for the real world.
Today a friend shared with me an article that found words I could have never wrote on my own. The article expressed everything I can now say about the first eight weeks of Chet’s life. It shares everything I wish I had known as I tackled the hard newborn stage of his life. This article could have been written about my baby.
If you are pregnant, go read the article just in case your baby needs a fourth trimester too. If you are living in the fourth trimester, hand your baby to your husband (because I know that your baby isn’t far from your arms or chest) and go read the article. Up until I found my own form of Mommy meditation, I struggled with all the insecurities mentioned in this article. What was I doing wrong? Why couldn’t I sooth my baby? As soon as I stopped trying to figure out what I was lacking and instead focused on supporting Chet through his crying, both of our nervous systems seemed to relax. We were both able to let go. We both grew.
The art of surrender is an act of compassion–for ourselves, first and foremost. When we hold that kind of feeling for ourselves, our babies “feel” it too. We hold them slightly differently. We breathe differently. We may stop “bouncing” them so much and start finding more fluid movements that flow with their true needs. We find…synergy.
Thank you Lu Hanessian for writing this beautiful article. I read it with tears rolling down my face. Thank you Heidi for sharing it with me. Thank you Chet for being patient with me as I learned the art of surrender. I’m still learning, but I know that this is exactly what my baby needs. I’m even more committed to letting my baby guide through the journey of being his mom. In his nearly 4 months of life (and 10 months in my belly), I’m slowly learning to let someone else lead me through life.