“I Passed the Test”: That Time a Pediatrician Crushed My Maternal Intuition

Hi friends —

This one is raw.

It’s about a pediatrician visit that knocked the wind out of me. About the ways I tried to “win” at postpartum, when really, I was unraveling. And it’s about the voice I thought I didn’t have — and the long, quiet journey back to finally hearing it again.

If you’ve ever felt like you were doing everything “right” but still falling apart… this is for you.

—

“I passed. I did good.”

That’s what I told myself after my son’s one-month check-up.
I had filled out the postpartum emotions checklist — sleep-deprived, trying not to cry in the waiting room, doing the appointment solo — and checked all the “right” boxes.

The pediatrician looked at the form and said:

“Seems like you’re doing just fine postpartum.”

I nodded.
Good. I passed. I did good.

But here’s what he didn’t see:

• I hadn’t slept more than two hours at a time in weeks.

• My husband and I were both quietly, separately having suicidal thoughts.

• My baby only slept if he was on my chest. … which meant I couldn’t sleep, because I was taught co-sleeping = SIDS.

• I was scared. I was drowning. I felt like I had already failed.

Still, I believed him.
I believed that if I said I was fine — and someone in authority said I was fine — then I must be okay.

—

✦ The Shaming That Changed Everything

My son screamed the entire appointment. The pediatrician was visibly annoyed. He looked at me, shook his head, and said flatly:

“He’s either tired or hungry.”

I told him he had napped on the car ride over — maybe 25 minutes.

“That’s not long enough,” he replied. “He should be sleeping for 2–3 hours. In his crib. Alone. He shouldn’t be sleeping on you. And he should be on a schedule.”

I felt myself leave my body.

My inner Over-Achiever (aka The Oversee-er) kicked in.
Okay. Got it. New mission: Get him on a crib nap schedule. Alone. No more contact naps. No more messing this up.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but something quiet and sacred in me — something I now know was my intuition — got buried that day.

—

The Mission: Fix It

From that moment on, I made it my job to get him on a nap schedule.
In his crib. Alone. The way I was told was “correct.”

And for weeks, it was just the two of us — him crying, me trying and failing to get him to sleep without me.

Every missed nap was a failure.
Every scream confirmed I was incompetent.
Every deviation from the schedule meant I wasn’t trying hard enough.

Eventually, I said f*ck it.

He napped on me. I watched TV.
Sometimes we co-slept on the couch, and I lived in fear that I’d hurt him in my sleep.
But at least we were surviving.

I thought I was broken for not enjoying this.
For not bonding instantly.
For not “knowing what to do.”

—

Where Was My Intuition?

That was the question on a loop in my head.

Where was my maternal instinct?
Why couldn’t I “just know”?
Wasn’t it supposed to be automatic?

Now, years later, I know the answer:

I wasn’t deformed.
I was injured.
And I was never given the space, support, or safety to actually hear myself.

That baby seed of maternal intuition — the one I thought I didn’t have?
It was there.
It just got buried under judgment, fear, and a crushing lack of support.

—

Now, I Can Finally Hear Her

Seven years into this journey, something has shifted.

I’m not reclaiming my intuition — I’m rediscovering that original spark I never got the chance to know.

Since then, I’ve grown something new.
A wiser, deeper maternal voice — one shaped by experience and self-trust.
She’s blooming now.

But that initial flicker — the baby version of my intuition?
She’s still in there.
And I’m so glad I finally get to meet her.

—

💛 If This Resonated…

If something in you softened, cracked open, or nodded along as you read this — I’d love for you to stick around.

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This shit is scary…and it’s scary to share. I appreciate you being here.

Coral