“But is he a good baby?” she asked me.
She wore her hair in a neat bun, which made my hair look even messier. Her shoes matched her handbag, and her pants were the prettiest shade of beige. I questioned my choice of clothes – black leggings and an Old Navy t-shirt. But “black leggings are evergreen,” I tried to justify to myself. “And this t-shirt is ideal for hiding the spots of leaky boobs.” I was lost in my thoughts when she leaned into me with her question.
“He is adorable, but is he a good baby?” she repeated as she gently tickled my baby’s nose. I looked at her as I didn’t know what that question meant.
So she clarified. “Does he sleep through the night?” “Does he let you put him down?” “Does he sleep in his crib?” Her grays told me she had more experience than me in motherhood (and in life, perhaps?).
I gave her a blank look. At six months of age, my baby didn’t do any of those things. He slept on me, cried for hours, threw up constantly, and never slept through a single night. I had no family around to hold him so that I could take a break. And COVID made sure that I couldn’t hire any support either.
I was grasping at straws, trying to piece together my life as my return to work day approached. Having slept less than four hours a night for weeks on end, I was lost, irritable, and exhausted.
I didn’t know what to do. I was considering psychotherapy. I was considering co-sleeping. I was considering quitting work. I was considering getting a night nurse. I was considering yelling at my husband. I was considering sleep training.
What I couldn’t consider was the possibility that my baby was 𝘯𝘰𝘵 a good baby because what would that make him a bad baby? How could a baby be bad? He was just an extension of me, a part of me.
Did I not love him enough? Was there something wrong with my milk? Did I not take my vitamins? Was I not giving him enough play time? Was I not giving him enough structure?
When you ask me if my baby is a “good baby,” I hear you question if I am a good mom.
When we tell mothers that their babies are or are not “good babies,” we sow the seed of comparison that is not only utterly unfair to the baby but also extremely harmful to a mother’s mental health.
Mothers don’t need “good babies.” They need a good society. They need a good village. They need a good community.
