The 2am Google Searches of a Psychodynamic Therapist Turned First Time Mum

There is nothing quite like becoming a mother to turn even the calmest therapist into a frantic 2am researcher, frantically whisper-typing things like “how do psychoanalytic and attachment theorists conceptualise car ride meltdowns and what would they suggest I do about it??” while sitting on the bedroom floor, listening to the baby monitor and having a necessary 11pm coffee.

Motherhood reshapes your mind, but it also awakens every corner of your clinical training. Suddenly every big-name theorist was no longer just someone to learn from, they were survival strategies shaping my parenting style.

And so here is what my early months looked like: a swirl of milk, tears (his and mine), therapist instincts, and a desperate attempt to translate theory into lived experience.

 When Your Infant  Screams in the Car

There are two versions of me in the car with a crying baby:

1. The calm professional who knows crying is communication.

2. The panicked mum who considers pulling over on the M1 to “fix” something that cannot be fixed.

Donald Winnicot, a British pediatrician and psychoanalyst known for his work on child development and the parent-infant relationship would say that containment is not silence: it's the parent who keeps their mind available. So I’m driving, baby wailing, and I am doing my absolute best Winnicott impression, narrating softly:

“I know it’s hard. I’m right here. We’re almost home.”

I used to pull over constantly, believing that good mothers stop all crying immediately. But now I hold that even if he cries the entire drive, he can still feel the emotional tether through my voice and presence. I no longer pull over every 500 metres. This is progress. 

On Breastfeeding, Bottle Refusal, and Being the Needed Body

This is where Melanie Klein wanders in. She was a psychoanalyst who studied how babies experience their earliest relationships. She talked about the 'good breast' and the 'bad breast'; basically how babies see their caregivers as either comforting and satisfying (‘good’) or frustrating and disappointing (‘bad’).

These concepts feel suddenly uncomfortably literal at 3am, when the baby refuses bottles, screams for mum, and treats your partner’s perfectly loving arms like an insult.

Klein would say: the breast is not just food, it’s the first symbol of safety.

And so we feed on demand, and we feed to sleep, and we know that even though this is his safe place, it’s still okay that he has times without mum, times when dad settles him, times when our sitter holds him through naps. What matters is emotional reliability.

The Babysitter Era (Or Regression? Or Teething?)

An infant has one foot in the world and one gripping your shirt. So, when the babysitter started and suddenly:

• he refused bottles;

• wanted endless breastfeeds on my return;

• woke more at night;

• cried for holding but not feeding;

• and yet would play happily with her all day

I started Googling: “Is this protest? Object relations? Or is he just teething??”

The truth: often it’s both.

His body might be sore. His emotional system might also be reorganising around separation. And in psychological  terms, he’s simply ensuring that the “good object” (you) is still reliable after distance. When he lunges into your arms after you return. That’s the reunion: the living confirmation that you still exist for him.

Psychodynamically speaking, this is the early architecture of the third object, where the baby discovers that relationships don’t collapse when one person leaves. If the babysitter is warm, attuned, and emotionally responsive, (which she is) then this is developmentally appropriate and even beneficial.

And how do you know he’s being emotionally held?

• He plays;

• He laughs;

• He sleeps;

• He shows the right level of clinginess on your return;

• He can separate again afterward;

All signs of secure attachment at work, not rupture.

The Nights of Constant Waking

These are the nights where I become a fusion of therapist and a human rocking chair.

When he wakes crying every 20 minutes, but settles instantly once held? That’s not spoiling. That’s affect regulation borrowed from your nervous system. And the moment when he finally resettles himself between sleep cycles becomes a poignant moment, because it is the very beginning of internalisation: the good experience becoming something inside him, not just outside.

When Dad Tries to Settle but Baby Wants Me

This was one of my most desperate searches:
“Should I intervene or let dad try? Winnicott co-regulation father??”

What I now hold:

• Dad settling him is good. It strengthens his capacity to rely on more than one person.

• Mum stepping in when the child is overwhelmed (not immediately distressed) is also good.

• They learn different rhythms from each parent, and this complexity is healthy.

Containment is a shared ecosystem, not a single provider.

Final Thoughts From the 2am Floor

In the early months, everything feels fragile — sleep, feeding, your identity, your sanity. But the therapeutic lens keeps reminding me:

• Crying is communication, not failure.

• Needing the mother is healthy, not regressive.

• Separation is a skill built through small tolerable experiences, not avoidance.

• Containment is the parent’s mind staying steady, not the baby staying calm.

• Secure attachment grows through repair, not perfection

So keep feeding that baby.
Keep holding them when they wake.
Keep letting dad take over.
Keep letting the babysitter build her place.
Keep driving even when he cries.
Keep talking, holding, returning, repairing.

It turns out that mothering through theory is still mothering, and that it’s raw, instinctual, and deeply human.

And maybe the real lesson is this:

The “good enough” mother Googles at 2am not because she’s failing, but because she cares.

For more guidance on attachment, sleep, and navigating the early months, reach out anytime using the form below or book a call to explore support.