First Time Mom: Am I Normal? Common Unspoken Worries and What Actually Helps
3:17 a.m. glows from my phone screen. My six-week-old son is latched, the cord from my electric pump is tangled around my ankle, and there’s a crusted oat bar stuck to the sheet under my hip. I’ve typed 12 words into an anonymous first-time mom Facebook group: “I don’t love every minute. Am I normal?” My thumb hovers over the post button.
Two weeks earlier, I’d hidden in the walk-in pantry while he screamed in his bassinet, eating a whole bar of dark chocolate and pressing my palm to my chest to slow my breathing. When my mother-in-law stopped by an hour later, she cooed over how calm I looked, what a natural I was. I smiled and nodded and didn’t tell her I’d just spent 20 minutes wanting to hand him off to someone else and drive away.
I’d never felt so isolated. Every other mom I followed online posted sunlit photos of sleepy babies on their chests, gushed about how every sleepless night was worth it, talked about how their heart felt full to bursting. I had moments like that, sure, but they were sandwiched between hours of boredom, irritation, and a quiet, constant fear that I was faking the whole thing. I got up the courage to bring the question to my six-week postpartum checkup, not just the blood pressure and the stitch check—my actual question. My nurse practitioner, Carol, leaned back in her chair and didn’t rush me. She said she gets that question at least three times a day from first-time moms. I’d spent six weeks thinking I was the only one.
She said the biggest lie we get fed is that good moms feel constant joy from day one. The instant, all-consuming love you see in movies and Instagram captions? It happens for some people, sure, but it’s not the standard. For most of us, attachment grows in the small, messy bits, not the first time you hold your baby. I’d walked around thinking I was broken because I didn’t cry happy tears the minute he was born, because I got bored during tummy time, because I snapped at my husband when he asked if I needed anything just 10 minutes after he got home from work.
Carol didn’t give me that vague “just enjoy every moment” line that makes me want to scream. She gave me three small, low-effort things to try that I still use today. First, write every “bad” or weird thought that makes you think you’re abnormal in a notes app folder, and once a week send the list to one person you know won’t judge you. It doesn’t have to be a mom, just someone who won’t reply with “oh, you’re such a good mom” or try to fix how you feel. I picked my college roommate, who had her first baby three months before me. She doesn’t even reply half the time, just sends a thumbs up. Last week I sent her “I resented the baby for ruining my beach trip plans for this summer” and she sent a thumbs up and a meme of a cat hiding in a box. That’s all I needed. Second, give yourself 10 minutes of unapologetic alone time every single day, even if the baby is crying when you do it. Put them in their crib on a safe, flat surface, close the door, and stand at the kitchen counter drinking a cold soda. No folding laundry, no answering texts, just standing there. Third, if you’re googling “am I normal” at 3 a.m., close the tab. Google will either tell you you’re having a breakdown or try to sell you a $40 “new mom calm down” candle. Write the question down and ask your provider or trusted person when it’s light out.
I’ve been doing that for a month now. Last week, my husband had to work late, the baby had a blowout that leaked through his onesie, the changing pad cover, and the sheet under it, and I got peed on mid-change. I sat down on the bathroom floor next to the pile of dirty laundry and laughed until my sides hurt. Two months ago, I would have sat there and cried and questioned everything about myself. Today? I just wiped myself off, grabbed a new onesie, and cleaned it up.
But I still have days. Two days ago, I put the baby in his swing 20 minutes early because I wanted to finish watching a reality show episode, and I sat there on the couch thinking “am I normal for this?” I still scroll past those mom accounts with the perfectly decorated nurseries and the smiling moms holding clean babies and feel a twinge that I’m doing it wrong. I still haven’t figured out how to get out of the house with all the gear in less than 45 minutes, and I still forget to pack extra socks half the time.
Right now, the baby is asleep in his bassinet, the pizza I ordered for dinner is half-eaten on the coffee table, and I just deleted that unsent “am I normal?” post from the Facebook group. I still don’t know what the official definition of a normal first-time mom is. I know I forget to burp him sometimes after a feed, I let him suck on my clean wrist when I can’t find the pacifier, I still cry once a week over something stupid like a broken coffee mug. Some days my chest feels so full of love I can barely breathe, some days I just count down the minutes until he goes to sleep. I’m starting to think that the most normal thing a first-time mom can do is ask if she’s normal. There’s no checklist, no perfect standard, just a bunch of us muddling through, wondering the same thing. That’s normal enough for me.
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