The First Growth Spurt: How We Danced Through the Long Nights

The first night

The sun went down and the real dance began. He’d latch, drink deeply, and drift… only to stir minutes later, rooting for me again. I held him in the glow of the lamp, the rest of the house asleep, and felt the hours stretch like taffy. My back ached, my eyes stung, but his tiny hand on my skin kept me grounded.

Outside, the night was still. Inside, our little world was pulsing with quiet urgency. Each feed felt like a step in a rhythm we didn’t plan but somehow knew. There was no time for doubts or “shoulds” — only the next feed, the next sigh, the next slow blink of his eyes.

The longest stretch

By the second night, I’d stopped looking at the clock. It didn’t matter if it was 2 a.m. or 4 a.m. — the cycle was the same: feed, cuddle, pause, repeat. My body moved on instinct. My mind floated somewhere between wakefulness and dreams.

There were moments I wanted to cry. Moments I whispered to him, “You’re working me hard, little one.” But then I’d feel the warm weight of him against me, the way his breath slowed between swallows, and I knew — this was his way of growing, his way of telling me, I need you right now more than ever.

The house became a cocoon. My partner would quietly bring me water, wrap a blanket around my shoulders, and kiss my hair without a word. We both knew we were in this together, but the real work — the feeding, the holding, the watching over him — was mine to carry. And somehow, I wanted to carry it.

When the morning came

On the fourth morning, I noticed something. His cheeks were rounder. His gaze held mine a little longer. When he fed, there was more strength in his suck, more certainty in his movements. And for the first time in days, he slept for two whole hours in a row.

I realised we’d made it through — not just survived, but deepened something invisible between us. I’d learned that I could give more than I thought possible. He’d learned that I would always be there when he asked.

Looking back

Now, when I hear other mothers talk about the “dreaded” growth spurts, I smile. Yes, they’re hard. Yes, you’ll be tired. But they are also proof that your baby is thriving, that your body and your love are giving them what they need to leap forward.

If you’re in the middle of one now, remember: you’re not failing because you’re tired. You’re succeeding because you’re still showing up. One feed, one cuddle, one sigh at a time.