The first time I remember hearing the term “4th trimester” was three weeks after giving birth to my son. During a postpartum visit, my doula asked how I was doing. Before words could even form, I started to cry. We sat on my couch, my newborn cradled to my chest, and I wept. She put her arm around me, let me cry, and told me everything I was feeling was all normal for the 4th trimester. 

 

The whole “4th trimester” thing was news to me. As she explained, it is a transitional period for mom and baby that takes place during the first 12 weeks following birth. As a mama, I was adjusting to life with a little one, trying to heal my body, and dealing with the highs and lows of postpartum. My son was also adjusting. Little babies need help getting used to the big, scary outside world. 

She encouraged me to think of him as a fetus outside of the womb. That meant holding him for all of his naps (and a lot of the time in general). Feeding on demand. Reacting to every single whimper or cry. 24/7.

 I never knew I could love someone the way I love my son, but those early months are nothing short of exhausting. I learned quickly to lean into my network for food, short breaks to shower or nap, and emotional support.  

Then, the city went into quarantine.   

It’s not like I didn’t know there was this thing out there called the coronavirus. I actually remember being in the hospital, trying to get my son to latch, and hearing my husband tell someone, “Oh it’s coming. We’ll probably go into a lockdown like China.” But it didn’t really resonate with me because hello I had a newborn. My whole world narrowed to this tiny human, and the demands of the 4th trimester blurred my vision beyond that. 

But it happened. Shortly after my son was born the first case of COVID-19 appeared in the US. Then, when he was 7 weeks old, everything changed. 

I will admit I feel lucky to have given birth prior to the outbreak here. I didn’t have to wear a mask in the hospital. My doula could be present. My parents visited afterward. But at the same time, I was used to having support and being surrounded by loved ones to help me and my new baby. Then suddenly, it was just us. 

My parents and mother-in-law were no longer coming over. My best friends were no longer bringing over coffee. The support groups I attended were no longer meeting. Because of the logistics of his job, my husband still went into the office. So it was just me, my 7 week old, and our two dogs in our home. All day. Everyday.

I’ll just say it–it was hard. I resented my husband for getting to leave the house every day. I resented my friends who didn’t have kids and could just hang out. I resented the Instagram moms who’s baby seemed to magically nap in their cribs. I also questioned my ability to be a good mother. I became frustrated easily. Some days, I wanted to curl up in bed and not get up. 

All of these emotions are totally normal for the 4th trimester. A baby who wants to be nuzzled on their mother’s chest for every, single nap is also totally normal for the 4th trimester. A global pandemic causing a quarantine, on the other hand, not so normal.

I was given suggestions on what to do during the 4th trimester to get through it, but I felt so stuck and alone. I was trying to cook as many healthy meals as possible at home. I was trying to heal my body. I was trying to keep the laundry under control. I was trying to keep a tiny human healthy and alive. 

Although honestly, global pandemic or not, that’s all any mama is trying to do during the 4th trimester. But for those of us who had babies this year, we just had to get creative on how we survived it. 

It took a couple of weeks for us to get into a semblance of a routine where I didn’t feel like I was drowning:

• I got the stroller out and walked every morning.
• I sent the grandparents a picture every day.
• I texted or called two friends every day.
• I practiced a lot of babywearing.
• I committed to doing one chore a day and committed to being okay with that. 
• I bought frozen meals to make cooking easier.
• I watched a lot (like a lot) of Love Island while my son slept on my chest.

I survived, but my son thrived. He started smiling. He discovered his hands. He rolled over. He giggled for the first time. He got the hang of latching to my nipple like a pro.

Looking back with a slightly clear perspective, I am able to see the beauty in what he and I experienced together during that strange 4th trimester. 

Yes, I was lonely. Yes, it was hard. But oh man, it was worth it.