“You’re Okay” - My New Mom Thoughts During a 3am Feeding
there is something about hearing your newborn cry that feels almost unbearable in the skin-crawling type of way.
as a new mom, one of my first instincts when my daughter fusses, cries, or seems uncomfortable is to immediately tell her:
“you’re okay.”
not because i want to dismiss what she’s feeling. quite the opposite! i want her to know that she is safe. that i’m here. that whatever is uncomfortable right now will pass. that she doesn’t have to hurt.
but day after day i am reminded that when you love someone this much, their distress can feel like your distress.
so when she cries, some part of me wants (needs) to make it stop. to fix it. to reassure her that everything is “okay.”
i found myself needing the right words to say. because if we are being honest, everyone around her is telling her… “you’re okay” when she’s crying and my therapist brain could feel the innocent dismissiveness in the message that is being played over and over. so i found myself googling:
what should i say instead of “you’re okay” when my baby is crying?
as a therapist, i know that there is a difference between reassuring someone that they are safe, held, and loved in the midst of their suffering and telling someone that what they are experiencing isn’t really that bad.
i don't want my daughter to learn that her distress is something she needs to quickly move past so that everyone else can feel more comfortable.
so i started collecting other words.
you might be thinking—your daughter is a newborn… she doesn’t understand your words… but i can’t help but believe that she can feel them.
here is a list i’ve accumulated of things we can say instead of “you’re okay”:
“i’m right here.”
“i hear you.”
“you’re having a hard time.”
“something feels uncomfortable right now.”
“i’ve got you.”
“you are safe with me.”
“i’m listening.”
“we’ll figure this out together.”
“that was upsetting.”
“you really didn’t like that.”
“you wanted something different.”
“you can let it out.”
“i’m here while you feel this.”
i find myself continuing to remind myself that she doesn’t have to make this easier for me if this isn’t easy for her.
and maybe this is where the story begins.
the story of the mask.
the pleasing.
the need to dismiss our needs to make others more comfortable.
not necessarily with some major trauma or dramatic moment…
but with something as innocent as a newborn crying in her mother's arms.
a baby learns that discomfort can be held.
that someone can stay close while she cries.
that she doesn't have to smile or quiet down to make the person she loves feel okay.
and maybe somewhere along the way of our loved ones innocently telling us we are okay, many of us learned the opposite.
we learned to swallow the tears.
to say “i'm fine.”
to make our pain smaller.
to stop asking for too much.
to wear a mask to make everyone else feel more at ease.
to become easy to love.
often, this wasn't because our parents didn't love us.
i have known this. i have discussed this session after session with clients.
but to live this… deeply reassures me that many of our parents were doing the best they knew how to do.
because hey—THAT is me. a new mom over here truly doing the best i can and knowing that i am simply not perfect.
our own parents, just like me, may have been uncomfortable with our sadness and distress because no one had taught them how to sit with their own.
so we learned to protect the people we loved from our suffering.
and that can become such an innocent beginning to a much bigger story:
i'm hurting, but i'm okay.
i'm overwhelmed, but i'm fine.
i need something, but i don't want to be a burden.
i'll take care of it myself.
as a therapist… now as a mother… i find myself thinking about how early our relationship with our own emotions begins.
maybe i don't need to teach my daughter that she is always okay.
maybe i want to teach her something even more important:
you are safe enough to not be okay.
you can cry.
you can be uncomfortable.
you can need me.
you can have big feelings.
and i can stay.
i don't have to fix every feeling for you.
and you don't have to hide your feelings to take care of me.
during this new season i find myself leaning on the grace and wisdom of God in a new way… to help me, help her.
there is something deeply comforting to me about the fact that scripture doesn't tell us to rush people out of their suffering but to be near.
psalm 34:18 says that “the LORD is close to the brokenhearted.”
close.
not distant because the pain is too much.
not asking the brokenhearted to get themselves together first.
close.
maybe that is one of the things i am learning as a mother.
maybe my daughters gas or nighttime fussiness isn’t “suffering” but one day her cry will reflect true suffering that is inevitable in this life.
and maybe it is something God has been teaching me so in that moment i will have the wisdom to show up in a truly loving way not concerned with my own discomfort…
and that in that moment my love isn’t going to sound like a “you're okay.”
but that my love would sound like,
“i'm here.”
“i'm not going anywhere.”
“you don't have to hide this from me.”
“you can feel this, and i can stay.”
and of course, there will be plenty of times when i will still say, “you're okay.”
because i'm human.
because i'm tired.
because sometimes “you're okay” is simply the language of a mother trying desperately to communicate, please let me make this better.
but i am learning that sometimes the most healing thing i can say is not:
“you're okay.”
but:
“i am here.”
and maybe that's where emotional safety begins.
and maybe, in some small way, that's also what it means to love like Jesus.
not always taking away the suffering,
but being willing to stay close in the middle of it.
signed,
a very sleepy therapist but more importantly…
a mother of a newborn
