Please, know that this child is yours. This little, frightening, alien being is yours and you can make the necessary decisions for keeping it fed and safe. Remember back into your great-great-great grandmother’s memories and intuit what is needed. Is your child hungry? Feed her. Bare your beautiful, round breast and allow her to nurse. If your breasts are barren or gone, warm a bottle and feed that baby while she is nestled close to your heartbeat. This is what mothers do.
Is your baby crying? Think about that for a moment. Is your baby crying? If he is, why is he crying? You know, deep in those memories you have an answer. Listen to yourself. Is he wet or overtired? Maybe he is cold or has a belly ache because he has never recovered from an immunization or dose of system-stripping antibiotics. Perhaps he only needs to be held.
Hold your child. Think of how it would feel to have been held tightly for months, for all memory and then to be ejected into a cold, bright world where your entire beinghood consists of being moved from one plastic container to the next? Hold this tiny person in your arms, against your body, feeding it your warmth, crooning your heartbeat into her tiny little ears.
Is your baby ill? Take care of him. Do what you must, pediatrician or herbalist or chiropractor. Whatever your healing modality, whatever the current concern dictates, do it. If you feel insistent about seeking help, go, seek it.
It is right to trust your round, moon, cyclic instincts when it comes to your baby. Trusting yourself does not mean shunning the help of others. It simply means giving yourself permission to be the perfect authority on this one, small being who you are closer to, more familiar with, than anyone else is likely ever to be.