One more day ’til one year old.

The other day, I was getting emotional while talking to Ankur about my first month postpartum.

I distinctly remember those whispered conversations with Ankur about how frustrated I was because the minute I was done feeding the baby, I’d ship him off downstairs to be with the grandparents and then remain upstairs so I could finish pumping. Then I’d head into the kitchen to wash my pump parts. And I’d see how happy everyone was with the baby while I had a 20 minute break to get something to eat and then start the whole feeding process again.

I told him, “It feels like our mom is the mom to this baby and I’m just the cow behind the scenes.”

And I would cry and cry and cry some more. Wondering how the hell this little being came out of my body and I felt no sense of attachment those first few weeks.

I remember feeling like the victim. So sleep deprived. So in pain. And my hormones had me crying every hour on the dot.

Ankur would try to make me feel better. He’d bring the baby back upstairs. Let him lay next to me while I pumped so I could stare at his little face. He wouldn’t berate me for acting wildly emotional. Wouldn’t judge me for breaking down because someone made me a salad and I wanted a veggie burger. He just hugged me and supported me through it all.

I have spent the past few days thinking about those first few weeks after we returned home from the hospital. As more of my friends have been navigating parenting through a pandemic, I am often brought back to that first month. When I felt like my life was so HARD because I had to share my baby with so many people.

Oof.

Last week, when I brought this up with Ankur, I got choked up and started crying. “I can’t believe how ridiculous I was. Thinking how hard I had it. When it was an actual PRIVILEGE to have people watch my baby so I could do whatever I needed to do. Pump. Shower. Recover. Breathe.” What would I have done if I had to do it all on my own? How could I have been so ungrateful?

He reminded me not to be so hard on myself. That all the hormones running wild inside my body made me emotional. And that, maybe I wasn’t grateful in the moment, but with time and perspective, I am seeing just how lucky I was. How lucky we all were.

Now, as we’ve been approaching his first birthday, I look around and see – truly see – how blessed we are to have so many hands, so many eyeballs, so many hearts dedicated to this baby of ours.

I wish I could hug that new mama from a year ago. And tell her, it’s okay. It’s okay that you don’t feel ready yet. You will. It’s okay that you feel like a cow. You will wear so many hats and “cow” is just one of a hundred. It’s okay that your mama instincts didn’t kick in right away. You will learn your baby one cry and one giggle at a time.

And it’s okay that, in the thick of it all, you couldn’t see how lucky you were to have the family that you do. They’ll love you anyway. Unconditionally.