I Didn’t Know I’d Need a Village, until I Found One in a Church Hall with Soft Mats and a Story surrounded by other mums
If I could go back and tell myself anything, it would be this:
You don’t need to know everything.
You just need space. You need people. You need softness, for both of you.
From Sleepless Nights to Sensory Play:
What I Wish I’d Known About My Baby’s First Year — And About Myself
I became a mum last autumn. One morning, my daughter arrived and everything changed, instantly, wildly, and in ways I still don’t fully understand.
In those first few weeks, everything felt new. I was staring at this tiny human I had somehow grown inside me, and I couldn’t believe they just, let you take them home with no instructions.
I had no idea how much I didn’t know.
The things no one really tells you
I thought babies just sort of…..grew. That you fed them, cuddled them, changed them, and slowly they became themselves.
But in reality? There is so much happening in those early months that I had no clue about:
That a newborn’s brain is developing at a crazy pace from day one, every sight, sound, cuddle, and song shaping their little world.
That “play” isn’t just a fun thing to do. It’s communication. It’s trust-building. It’s learning.
That their ability to feel safe, soothed, and secure is wired through connection, not routines.
That your own body and emotions - your heartbeat, your voice, your smell - are like a lighthouse to them.
No one told me how much I was still growing, too.
I didn’t expect to feel so unsure. Or to question myself 17 times a day.
I didn’t know that holding my baby for hours would make me feel incredibly close and also kind of unseen at the same time.
What I learned I needed — and didn’t know to ask for
I thought being a good mum was about “doing it all right.” But what I’ve realised is this:
What new mums really need isn’t perfect routines or fancy toys.
It’s understanding.
It’s somewhere soft to land on the hard days.
It’s a few other people who are in the thick of it too, who will look at you with messy hair and crumpled clothes and say: “Same.”
I didn’t realise how much I needed connection. Not scrolling-on-my-phone-at-midnight connection. Real-life, eye-contact, “have you eaten today?” connection.
The unexpected power of gentle spaces
One Wednesday morning, I turned up to a local group that a friend had mentioned. I almost didn’t go, my baby had barely slept, I felt exhausted and I just sat in the car.
But inside that room, something shifted.
There was music and soft lights.
There were babies wriggling under scarves, mums holding pom poms, and quiet smiles that said: “You made it. You’re doing okay.”
There were no lectures. No “shoulds.”
Just women, figuring it out together, talking about nap struggles and postnatal hair loss and the weird, wonderful ache of falling in love with your baby while also missing your ‘old self’.
And for the first time in weeks, I felt seen.
What I’m still learning
Motherhood doesn’t arrive all at once. It unfolds. Slowly. Sometimes beautifully. Sometimes painfully. Always differently than you imagined.
You can feel joy and resentment in the same breath.
You can miss your baby while they’re asleep and also desperately need a break.
You can be deeply grateful and still feel overwhelmed.
And that doesn’t make you a bad mum.
It makes you human.
Why I’m writing this
Because maybe you’re reading this at 3am with a baby on your chest, wondering if anyone else feels the way you do.
Because maybe no one told you how much your baby needs you, not just your care, but your calm, your presence, your joy.
Because maybe you need to know you’re not the only one Googling “how long is a baby meant to nap?” and “why am I crying all the time?”
If I could go back and tell myself anything, it would be this:
You don’t need to know everything.
You just need space. You need people. You need softness, for both of you.
And if this resonates, I hope you find that.
Even if it’s just one honest conversation.
Even if it’s just a moment of silence, holding your baby, knowing you’re not alone.
With love,
A new mum still figuring it out
(Norfolk, UK)
