9 months in, 9 months out Enamoured with the magic quality of the female body, I spent most of my pregnancy in awe of growing a soul inside myself. My singular breath uniting two beating hearts made me feel like a superhero. I dialled into her wellbeing and subsequently my own. In birthing her, I trusted my body beyond my own belief. But interestingly, when she arrived earth side, I was swept up out of my heart and into my head. Never had I count so much in my life; hours of sleep, mls of milk, wake windows, poos/wees, how much tummy time, how much weight gain. A constant measuring. Using metrics to approve how well I was doing as a mother. My focus became about technique. Obsessing over finding a pattern or a routine to “master” in order to find some sense of order and control. During a recent session with my doula, I realised how far away I was from this magic mother perception I, not long ago, had of myself. And why was it, when my baby is on the outside, all of a sudden I lost this deep sense of knowing and intuition? Why did I rely on these metrics to measure if I was doing the right thing? Perhaps it’s the exhaustion, the lack of sleep, the desperation to feel in control. Was it was easier for reddit to tell me if my baby was well-slept, rather than just tuning into her? A recent trip as a family away I turned to my husband and said, fuck the schedule, let’s just flow with her. And so that’s what we did. She ate when she was hungry. She slept when she was tired. Some days it was more, some days it was less. There wasn’t a perfect number we were trying to hit. She was consistently happy, smiley and a joy to be around. We were in flow. We were in tune with one another, just like we were in the womb. And this magic mother in me reared her head again and I’d like to hope she’ll stay around. Feels right!