Sometimes I try to remember what life was like before I had Jaxon, but honestly, it’s just a blur. I wasn’t much of a party person, and I didn’t need a big group of friends to feel okay about myself. I did normal stuff work, slept, maybe went out sometimes but it all feels so far away now. Jaxon change everything in my world even every day seem magical with him.
I thought I was responsible back then. I really did. But nothing, and I mean nothing, prepares you for motherhood. Every day is a brand-new challenge.
When I got pregnant, I swear people came crawling out of the woodwork to give advice. Everyone suddenly became an expert telling me what to feed him, how to help him sleep, whether to breastfeed, when to go back to work, even what kind of diapers to buy. It was endless. Honestly I just follow mt instincts.
I smiled, nodded, said thanks and then did what I wanted anyway. Because that’s what you learn fast: there’s no right way to do this. There’s only what works for you. And what works changes constantly and somehow, I figure it out.
At first, I thought I was killing it. Jaxon was an angel baby. Slept through the night, barely cried, ate well. I’d brag to anyone who’d listen “My baby sleeps 13 hours straight!” I was that mom. Then he turned two, and karma laughed. Then everything suddenly got so messy that I never imagined off. And I barely survived some days.
Suddenly my good sleeper turned into a tiny night owl. He’d wake up at 2 a.m. and sneak into our room like a little ninja. I was tired my secretly happy inside. My husband never noticed, of course he could sleep through a marching band. But me? The second Jaxon’s foot hit the floor; I was wide awake.
It’s gotten better, but some nights I’m still up watching the baby monitor like a hawk, praying he stays put. Moms don’t sleep. We just rest our eyes between kid emergencies and somehow I keep going on daily.
I didn’t breastfeed, and honestly, I don’t feel bad about it. I didn’t want to, and that’s okay. My best friend breastfeeds right in front of me and I cheer her on because it works for her. That’s what people don’t get moms support each other, not judge.
Feed your baby how you want. Formula, breast, whatever keeps them fed and happy. Trust yourself; you’re doing enough.
Now, about pacifiers. Oh, the pacifier drama. I took it away during the day and he didn’t care. But bedtime? Whole different story. He doesn’t even suck on it he just holds it like it’s his best friend. I find like ten of them buried in his sheets every morning. If that silly thing helps him sleep, fine. I’ll buy a lifetime supply. Pacifiers rule our life completely.
And don’t even get me started on people judging in public. Once, a cashier told me I was “spoiling” him because I gave him candy when he was screaming in Walmart. Ma’am, if giving him a Twix means I get through checkout without a meltdown, I will give candy every time then yes, I’m spoiling him. Happily. You pick your battles as a mom, and that one wasn’t worth the noise.
Staying home with him is both the best and hardest thing I’ve ever done. My days are filled with cartoons, snacks, and laundry that never ends. Every chore takes three times longer with a toddler “helping.” But even when I’m exhausted, I wouldn’t trade it. Every messy day feels like worth it.
Right now, we’re in the potty-training stage, and let me tell you, it’s like living in a bathroom-themed nightmare. Some days he gets it; other days he pees on the floor like it’s no big deal. But I’ve stopped stressing. He’ll figure it out when he’s ready.
Motherhood is wild. It’s messy and loud and sometimes makes you want to cry in your car just for five minutes of quiet. But it’s also full of little moments that make your heart swell the hugs, the laughter, the tiny “I love you.” And somehow I loved it all.
I’m about to have another baby soon, and even after everything, I still don’t have it all figured out. But maybe that’s the secret no one does. We’re all just learning as we go, doing the best we can. And honestly? That’s more than enough. Every baby teaches you something.
