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Early years

10th Nov 2017

To the new mum with the wailing baby – you didn’t see us all smile

I saw myself from a different angle.

Gillian Fitzpatrick

Here's what your baby's different cries actually mean

It was at times tough to witness.

A new mum struggling with an unsettled newborn on a bus slowly navigating rush-hour traffic.

The baby was a gorgeous tiny boy of around six weeks with a heavy mop of dark brown hair and big brown eyes. He was dressed in a snug blue babygro and was being rocked by gently.

She looked young (probably still in her 20s), tired, and overwhelmed. Her baby was wailing – loudly! – as hungry newborns tend to do with particular energy despite their size.

You could tell she was horribly self-conscious: the combination of a packed bus, the traffic, and an unsettled child can be pretty devastating, after all.

She had a soother and was doing her best to placate the little one with it… until he spat it out onto the germ-filled floor of the bus.

She was struggling to breastfeed too: her baby, although clearly hungry, was howling in a panic. Given the circumstances, mum was also frazzled which – as anyone who’s tried to breastfeed will attest – doesn’t help matters.

Many of us have been there and will painfully recognise the scenario. I know I did.

I still remember my cheeks burning and my eyes welling up because I just – not matter what I tried – couldn’t settle my child.

I was often embarrassed (mortified in fact) if she began to roar with ever-increasing velocity in a public place. I suppose I should have just shrugged it all off (as I did better when my second baby arrived two-and-a-half years after his big sister) but I simply wasn’t confident in my abilities to sooth her quickly or settle her quietly without too much fuss.

Then this week, I saw my previous self from a different angle. I saw what that mum on that crammed, slow-moving bus didn’t realise: that she and her gorgeous little boy made people happy.

Passengers glanced over and smiled before returning to their phones; quiet whispers of ‘he’s gorgeous’ were made to no one in particular; people glowed as they walked passed them en route to the exit.

They recognised what that mum and countless numbers of us with burning cheeks and hot tears in our eyes didn’t – that actually, we’re doing OK.

So on behalf of all mums – frazzled or otherwise – here’s to doing OK. And here’s to reminding ourselves (and our fellow parents) that doing OK is more accurately described as being a champion.