It arrives early on, this companion. You may notice it first in the hospital. Yes, the nurses are in and out. Food service comes too. But in between there are these other stretches. Windows of time when you lie there alone in the bed. At first it may seem blissful. You are exhausted from weeks of disrupted and uncomfortable sleep at the end of the pregnancy. You may have been through a long labor. The delivery may have taken a lot out of you. So you rest. But perhaps vaguely at first, you may notice that you are alone a lot with the baby even in the hospital, even if your partner stays overnight with you.
You think it will be different when you get home. And, to some extent, it certainly is. You have all your creature comforts. You’re out of that lovely nightgown that bares your bum to the world, back into your own comfy cottons. Family may have come to help. There are new routines to adjust to. It’s a challenge to get enough sleep, to get a shower, to find time to eat. But when it gets down to it, possibly when the baby is most fussy, it’s just you - alone with the baby - trying to make it all happen. Trying to soothe, to change, to feed, to burp, to put down to sleep. Panic may strike. You’re feeling particularly weary after a bad night. Or the baby is refusing to feed or wanting to eat constantly. Your partner is snoring peacefully beside you: How am I going to do this this, you may wonder. I am so alone.
Your partner may head back to work after a few days or weeks. You may be pondering a return to work yourself. If you’re lucky, your mom, a friend, or a neighbor may be around some. You may keep your phone nearby, listen to some tunes, or binge watch whatever you can find as you do the drill: Change-feed-burp-sleep. Change-feed-burp-sleep.
After the flurry of the initial days and weeks, you settle into a routine. More and more, though, it’s just you and the baby. Nobody said anything about this part of mothering. It seemed so social before the baby came. You saw those other women sitting together in circles at the playground or having coffee together.
You may start to think it’s just you. That everyone else has lots of company. And that there’s something wrong with you that you don’t. The change-feed-burp-sleep routine makes it hard to do anything else. As absolutely devoted you may feel to your little one, the feeling of loneliness grows stronger.
Loneliness becomes a companion, as real a part of your day as the change-feed-burp-sleep. You may try calling a friend, maybe even another mom with a baby, but she may seem like she has it all figured out. If you’re courageous enough to admit how lonely you are, she may offer to get together. And hopefully something takes off for both of you. But she may not. She may not really hear you or may not want to admit that she, herself, is also struggling in the same way. There’s so much societal pressure to maintain the image of early motherhood as an overwhelmingly happy time. And so for both you and your potential mom-pal, an opportunity to relieve the loneliness is lost.
Unfortunately, this loneliness can contribute significantly to postpartum depression in new mothers. It’s so important to talk about it. Tell your partner. Tell your friend. Call your mother. Do whatever it takes to find a way to make it better. Because it really can make a big difference. And motherhood doesn’t have to be so lonely.