Staying at home for three months with a new baby is something else. It’s a journey no one can fully prepare you for—not the books, not the stories, not even your own imagination.
In the first week, everything felt like a blur. My days and nights melted into each other. I couldn't tell if it was Monday or Saturday. The baby cried, fed, slept, cried again—on repeat. I was constantly holding, rocking, nursing, changing, and trying to remember who I used to be before this tiny human took over my world.
The second month brought a bit of rhythm, though still chaotic. I learned her cries—one for hunger, one for sleep, and the one I feared the most: the unknown one. I hadn’t stepped out of the house in weeks except to stare out the window or pace the balcony. My hair was rarely brushed, my clothes barely matched, and a hot cup of tea became a distant dream.
But in all of that madness, something else was happening. I was falling deeper in love. With her sleepy smile, her little fingers curling around mine, her innocent eyes staring up at me as if I was her whole world.
By the third month, we had found our pace. We had inside jokes—yes, with a three-month-old. She smiled more often. I sang more. We danced in the kitchen. I stopped trying to keep everything perfect and started to just be. Those quiet moments—her breathing softly on my chest, her tiny hand on my arm—felt like time had stopped just for us.
Staying at home with a new baby for three months isn’t easy. It’s exhausting, isolating, and sometimes overwhelming. But it’s also magical. Transformative. A season of life that, despite the struggles, I wouldn’t trade for anything.
Because in those three months, I didn’t just raise a baby—I became a mother.
Thanks for your time and for reading to the end