The Hardest Work of Mothering Involves Letting Go

I now understand that I never had the power to control my children’s happiness.

Illustration by Author

When my daughter Ana was only a few weeks old, I desperately wanted her to sleep through the night. I thought this was what she needed, but it’s actually what I needed — to prove to myself and everyone else that I was a good mother. I also needed the sleep.

In my quest to scale this first parenting mountain, I read a book which had been enthusiastically recommended to me by a close relative. It promised to have my new baby sleeping through the night within a week or two.

The book instructed me to put the baby on a schedule that required an unwavering commitment to strict routine. There would be no picking her up when she cried at bed or nap time. I would need to feed her at regular intervals whether she was hungry or not — no more “nibbling” at the breast throughout the day. Looking back, this is quite obviously absurd. But back then, it had made sense. My sleep-deprived and largely clueless new-mom brain craved a break.

Needless to say, I failed almost immediately and nearly had a complete mental breakdown in the process. I’d been angry at myself, and Ana, for this failure.