“It Took Me A Long Time To Accept That I Had A Baby” – How The Fourth Trimester Nearly Broke Me

“I kept thinking that all my baby needed was for me to make him feel safe and calm. But at that moment, I couldn’t see it. Instead, I pushed him away.”

The first three months with a new baby are often described as magical. And yes, there were great moments. But in truth, those early days were also some of the most overwhelming and emotionally chaotic days of my life. Between adjusting to a new routine, recovering from childbirth and facing sleepless nights, I felt like I was constantly trying to stay afloat in an unprecedented storm.

This period – often called the fourth trimester – is something every mum will walk through, emotionally, physically and mentally. While there are plenty of guides on what to expect during pregnancy and childbirth, not many talk about what happens after the baby arrives. The part where your hormones crash, your identity shifts, and you’re suddenly responsible for a tiny human who depends on you for everything.

And for me, it started the moment my child was born. I was suddenly a mum, but I didn’t feel like one.

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Dissociation at birth

I remember the moment they placed my baby on my chest after my emergency C-section. Everyone says it’s supposed to be surreal, like an epiphany almost. You see your baby for the first time and feel a rush of love, right? But I felt … nothing. Just emptiness, almost like a sense of disconnect. I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe. Within seconds, I asked the nurse to take him away.

I still carry the guilt of that moment, and I always wonder if my baby felt that rejection. I kept thinking, “You’re supposed to make him feel safe. Why can’t you do this one thing right?” I felt like I had failed already, that maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a mum.

I was in a shared ward with three other mums who seemed to just … get it. Even through their exhaustion, I saw tenderness in the way they held their babies, confidence in their movements. I, on the other hand, struggled to even sit up. I watched them with envy, wondering why this didn’t come naturally to me.

My body was screaming for rest. I’d barely processed the (very traumatic) birth, and when I asked the nurse if he could stay in the nursery for one night so I could get some rest, my request was met with subtle guilt trips like, “He needs to be with you, mummy.”

I told myself it was the surgery, that I needed more time. But deep down, I knew I was mentally checking out. I didn’t want to engage. I just wanted to escape.

The days are long

Back at home, I busied myself with tasks – anything to avoid sitting still. Folding clothes, cleaning bottles, organising drawers. My husband was the real MVP and deserves a massive shoutout. He took over everything without question: baths, diapers, night wakings. Thinking back, most times I let him take charge, and maybe that was because I didn’t trust myself.

I remember one night, rocking my baby in the dark, tears streaming down my face while he wailed for what felt like hours. I was so tired, I genuinely didn’t know if I was going to make it through the night. I prayed endlessly and begged God to just make him sleep, asking for just one moment of peace.

I remember his first fever. I was panicking and shaking as I held his burning little body, sobbing because I didn’t know what to do. I wished it were me who was sick because at least I could explain my pain, where it hurts and what medicine I needed to get better. My little baby couldn’t.

Those days, I questioned everything – my choices, my ability to love, my body. I didn’t recognise the woman in the mirror. The woman with puffy eyes, a deflated belly, and messy hair from days without washing.  I felt like such a failure. There was so much pressure to “bounce back,” to be strong, to enjoy every moment. But I simply couldn’t.

Read more: ‘I Couldn’t Breastfeed, But That Doesn’t Make Me Any Less of a Mum’

But the years are short

But even in the darkness, there were glimmers. After changing thousands of diapers, doing endless days and nights of feedings and falling into a routine, I realised I was actually getting the hang of this parenthood thing. I gained a new sense of confidence and finally began to feel like I was taking charge again.

I realised I could swaddle him just right and I could tell the difference between his hungry cries and tired ones. I decided to no longer fight the hard moments and instead breathe through them. The nights when I couldn’t get him back to sleep? I’ve learned to embrace them now. Because I know one day he won’t need me like this anymore.

The endless to-dos on my list that used to overwhelm me? I learnt to accept that the chaos and exhaustion is part of a journey that is just so, so rewarding. Watching him grow a little bigger, smarter, cheekier, and more lovable each day further reminds me that hey, I’m actually doing pretty okay for a first-time Mama.

One of my favourite memories is from a quiet morning when he woke up early and I pulled him onto my chest and for once, he fell back asleep without a fuss. His tiny fingers wrapped around mine. And in that moment, I finally felt that big, overwhelming kind of love everyone always talks about.

Read more: More than just the Baby Blues: Postpartum Depression Resources in Singapore

You’re doing great, Mama

In hindsight, I realised the fourth trimester wasn’t about getting everything right. It was about learning to roll with the messiness, the ups, and the downs. It’s never all rainbows and butterflies, but it’s so important to take the time to savour these moments and celebrate the small milestones.

To the mums out there who are still in the thick of it – cry if you need to. Ask for help even if it feels uncomfortable. Forget about the dishes. Hold your baby. Or don’t. It’s okay. Understand that you’re not alone, even if it feels like it. And you’re doing better than you think. You’ve got this, mama. And if you don’t yet, you will.

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