Wrong.
I'm 7.5 months out and I still have no idea what I'm doing. It's 1/3 advice, 1/3 winging it, and 1/3 googling. Here are some of the things I wish I knew:
1. Birth is a humbling affair.
"Best day of my life"
"Amazing!"
"It was magical!"
These are the words one would usually hear when someone else describes their birth experience. It kinda gives you a picture of an expectant mother lying on a bed of pink roses, surrounded by rainbows, kittens and puppies; as she prettily sighs, a swirl of glitter comes out of her lady parts and materializes into an adorable newborn baby. If only.
D day arrived. It was a happy day. My body was humming with excitement. I couldn't wait to meet my baby. I woke up early, headed to the salon to get my hair styled, went home and did my makeup. I wanted to look pretty and picture perfect because I'm vain. What? Did you expect a different reason other than vanity? Also, I saw photos of Kate Middleton looking fabulous hours after giving birth and she immediately became my spirit animal back then. I had a scheduled C section so I knew that wearing dress and heels were out of the equation, but I was determined to nail the hair and makeup part. The procedure went smoothly. I could not praise the medical professionals who attended me enough. They did their best to make me feel at ease and give me such a serene birthing experience.
Birth is humbling because no matter how splendidly it goes, how impecccable your coiffed hair and makeup are, or how prestigious your hospital is, you still are at your most vulnerable.
You are naked on a table, your lower body is completely paralyzed, your arms are strapped to your sides, and you are cut open (or, for those who had natural birth, you are spread-eagled while an entire team of medics stare at your crotch and your body is racked with labor pains).
Only the medical team and my partner were with me and even then I still felt so exposed. It's such a fragile moment in a woman's life, and for
2. Love at first sight does not happen to everyone.
Most, if not all, people told me that I would never know what genuine love is until I see my baby for the first time. They said that you would experience this love so powerful, your heart would feel like it's about to burst. I was a little skeptical but they assured me that every mom experiences the same.
Big day came. I was on the operating table when I heard the doctors' excited murmurs. They told me that he was out and that he was perfect. They placed him on top of my chest for some skin-to-skin contact, while my doctor gleefully announced that she was giving me the finest, prettiest C-section scar (I very much appreciated it. My incision is barely visible. So yay, crop tops and bikinis, I guess). Everyone was looking at me expectantly and I didn't know what to do so I mimicked a scenario I see too often in movies: I put him on the crook of my neck and softly kissed his head --- which was a bit gross because he had blood all over him. And BOOM! Just like that, I was awashed with overwhelming sense of...
Yes. Pure, unadulterated, sheer panic.
It was not love at first sight. Or at least it was not love as I knew it. To me, love was a two-way emotion that took time to cultivate and involved other fundamental elements such as respect, trust and loyalty. It was something that gave you this fuzzy, giddy feeling that made you want to hug everyone and NOT sucker punch that bitch who commented about your weight. I associated the term love with mostly positive things such as happiness, security, comfort and fond memories. After giving birth, all I remembered having was a mixture of shock, dread and uncertainty; far from the feelings affiliated with my former idea of love.
Did I feel bad for not "falling in love" with my son right away? A little. Our society has this romanticized, painfully saccharine view of birthing and motherhood in general; if you stray juuuuuust a tiny bit from the norm, you're considered weird, uncool or you know... an asshole.
However, just because I did not get the chance to experience love at first sight Hollywood style doesn't mean I felt nothing for him. I knew even before he was born that I would protect him with everything I have, that I would always want what is best for him; that I would willingly eviscerate someone who would attempt to hurt him, and hunt down their family and pets too (just kidding... or am I?).
That, perhaps, is mother's love in its rawest form.
Recovery is my least favorite. Everything else, including the major surgery, was a bliss compared to it. The operation went well, the baby is healthy, I healed fast
I'm the type of person who locks the bathroom door even though I'm alone in the apartment. I love my privacy (with regards to personal space) that much. I don't take well to people just barging in my space without waiting for my consent to enter. I have lots of issues, I know. So imagine my struggle when nurses, cleaning staff, doctors, etc... would just go inside the suite and leave the door wide open, while I was either half naked trying to breastfeed my son (without success) or also half naked getting my bandages changed.
I don't like it when others see me helpless, naked and tubby!!!
I just don't. I understand that they were just doing their job but Jesus Christ! Have some consideration and close the fucking door! I'm a new mother, not a Body Worlds exhibit.
4. Sleep deprivation will, for lack of a better term, FUCK YOU UP.
I can't even begin to attempt to emphasize the significance of sleep. When you are a parent, your body becomes so in tune to the most minute of sounds. You are always hyperalert. Gone are the days when you can stay up all you want and then freely nap during the day. So suck it up.
I haven't had a decent sleep since my third trimester. Some days I am coping well, other days I would keep bumping into things or be barely coherent or both. I can't think straight, I sometimes hallucinate, I'm prone to bursting into tears and I am on stabby mode. I believe it is safe to assume that this is something every new parent goes through. Your entire world has done a 180, you barely had any time to take it all in, and you're all still getting used to the routine. It can get absolutely overwhelming.
My son's father tries his best to help and while it is very much appreciated, his energy reservoir is not inexhaustible either. The only way I would ever settle my sleep deficit is a 3 month-long induced coma. When you are sleep deprived, there is nothing much you can do but catch up on some desperately needed zzzZZZzz. Nutrition and a good support system help, but what you REALLY need most is, well... sleep.
And no, I don't need exercise to cope with the lack of sleep. It doesn't make sense. Everytime I'm given this advice, I become homicidal. Do I even need to point out the absurdity of its premise?
Let's try to swap sleep with another basic necessity (just as important to keep our body thriving) and use it in a simple conversation.
Person A: I'm starving.
Person B: Try doing 100 jumping jacks and 530 burpees.
Person A: What? I... I'm hungry.
Person B: You can also run for 4 straight hours. Trust me, it will make you feel amazing!
Person A: I haven't eaten in days. I feel weak. I need to find something to eat.
Person B: And definitely planking! It is good for your core!
Person A: OUR BODIES NEED FOOD TO CONVERT TO ENERGY!
Person B: Energy? Yes! Energy! Cardio will fuel you with plenty of energy!
5. Poop! Poop everywhere!
There really is no need to explain this one. I always knew that parenthood entails thousands of diaper changes and I was never intimidated by it. I had cats. I have a dog. Poops don't faze me. Even so, I have completely underestimated the amount of poop I would be dealing with on a daily basis. Poop on the baby's clothes. Poop on my clothes. Poop on baby's legs. Poop on my hands. Poop on my hair. Poop on the floor. Poop on the chair. Poop. Poop everywhere.
It's like I'm in the middle of a gastrointestinal armageddon every. single. day. Funny thing is, I don't even mind. I find it inconvenient to clean up especially when I am running late, yes, but I'm far from grossed out. I also realized that I have never found another human's bowel movement to be so fascinating and endearing until I became a mother.
Motherhood FTW!