Probably the most common question asked of new parents is, “How are you sleeping?”, accompanied by a knowing wink if the asker is a parent, or a nervous grimace if they are not.
I am currently in the midst of a day that has lasted for twelve weeks and counting— the infamous Fourth Trimester, 84 days and 83 nights, twelve weeks today with our sweet Aurelia Maeve, the baby with the smiles of a radiant sun, the curiosity of a newborn kitten, and the farts of a grown man.
I refer to the Fourth Trimester in terms of single day because this is how I have personally experienced it. You see, I have not slept for more than three and a half hours consecutively (and that’s a long stretch!) since I engaged in the endurance sport/medieval gauntlet that is natural childbirth and decided to only breastfeed Aurelia— no formula, no pumps. You know, easy mode.
Without a solid chunk of unconsciousness to reset and initiate new days, they all blur together. There is no reality but rather surreality, my life tinged with a dreamy floating sensation as the hours slide by and my understanding of time narrows to 2-3 hour chunks of time, one after another.
It’s incredibly hard for me to accept that, by Normal People Reckoning, it’s been a quarter of a year. A quarter of a year in which I haven’t been able to work on certain exciting projects or do plenty of mundane things like go to the movies or go for a run. It would be easy to focus on the negative effects of this change— I’m in the worst shape of my life, I get zero alone time with my husband, and I’m at least 30% dumber than I used to be.
It’s easy to understand why new parents say they live the Fourth Trimester in ‘survival mode,’ with zero expectations for it to be anything other than exhausting and grueling.
But I’m nothing if not determined to suck the marrow out of every experience I have the opportunity to explore. As such, my mantra during this time has come down to a simple question1: in this time full of apparent limitations, what is possible right now?
What is possible right now is bonding with my baby, and becoming an expert as quickly as possible in how to keep her alive.2
What is possible right now is reading an incredible volume of books thanks to a lightweight kindle I can operate one-handed.
What is possible right now is seeing if I can’t manage a little writing in my notes app, also one handed. Seems to be going… okay?
Perhaps the most useful “possible” right now is practicing acceptance of each particular moment, however it shows up, especially the ones when I may not be able to do precisely what I would like to do because there is now a tiny person in my life who wants to do what she wants to do, and she will not be negotiated with, thank you very much.
But frankly, what’s been possible is also quite a lot more than I’d been led to believe would be possible with a newborn, simply because we decided that we’d at least try things ourselves instead of assuming they wouldn’t work out.
We’ve dealt with blowouts on the go (one time without packing a backup outfit, yikes), constant facilitation of naps in the wild (cities are louder than I’d previously thought…), and the sheer panic of that one time when the usual tricks (jaguar-in-a-tree, hairdryer, even the boob) didn’t work and we had to deal with a completely inconsolable baby for the first time and of course it was when we were away from home.
But we’ve been able to meet friends for aperitivo regularly, taken Aurelia to her first house party in the hills (we left at 9, but still, we made it!), gone out for dinners and long walks and shopping missions, and tasted delicious wine in the Langhe. Us, not her. She hasn’t tasted wine… yet.3
Aurelia the Beneficent has even decided that, for the time being, she’s okay with me playing Baldur’s Gate on the PS5 while she alternatively eats and naps on my chest or knees, a true win for this nerdy mother.
This has all been possible because we refused to impose limits on ourselves. There are limits, don’t get me wrong. But we’ve at least discovered them ourselves instead of assuming them into this stretch of surreality.
Because the fact is that this surreal state of being is not forever. In fact, it’s already beginning to change— Aurelia has started eating less, which has occasionally correlated to slightly longer sleep stretches during the time Normal People refer to as “night.”
I have a feeling that this strange phase will be over before I know it, and I have a feeling that I might miss it when it is.
In the meantime, I keep focused on what is possible, and content myself with that for the time being.
After all— it’s just one day.
Have you ever been in a period of time when living life as usual felt impossible? What did you do about it?
If you have kids, what was your experience of the Fourth Trimester?
A question, in fact, that I employed during the Covid lockdowns.
I hear this will really come in handy during the toddler years.
She is an Italian baby, after all.