When I became pregnant
with my first child, I was ecstatic. Well, sure I was scared too. My
husband and I looked at each other with uncertainty. Ready or not,
we were on our way to becoming parents.
Over the next nine months, Mike and I received tons of free
parenting advice and quite a bit of it was, well, negative.
Initially, other parents would be overjoyed, happy that another
couple was entering their ranks. Then they would start in with the
bad news. "Your life is over," and "You'll never
sleep again." And most cruelly they'd smirk at one another
knowingly, and say "Bye-Bye sex life."
But we felt like we were on this incredible cosmic journey together
and let's face it, we really didn't want to listen to the
"negative advice" from unhappy, dissatisfied parents with
unruly little brats. We believed that we had a strong marriage that
could withstand any changes a baby brought into our lives. After
all, we were completely prepared for the arrival of our baby. Or so
we
thought.
After much anticipation, our beautiful, perfect daughter, was born.
Olivia slept peacefully in the hospital, awaking simply to peek
adoringly at her parents. Mike and I were convinced that parenthood
would not crimp our style the least bit. But reality sank-in quickly
after we brought our angel home. That first night Olivia slept
sporadically, rotating through an endless cycle of eating and
crying. And that was just the beginning. Over the next couple of
months, my husband and I bravely struggled alongside each other,
desperately trying to maintain balance in a world literally turned
upside down.
And suddenly it hit me. Nobody told me there would be days like
these! Nobody told me that I'd spend an entire day accomplishing
nothing except for feeding my hungry, growing child. Nobody told me
that my life would become consumed with the three P's: poop, pee,
and puke. Nobody told me that an entire day could go by and I
wouldn't find time to shower, feed myself, or venture outside the
womb of our home. Nobody told me that I would feel so unsure and out
of control. Nobody told me that there would be days when I was
absolutely certain that I had made a mistake having a baby and that
I needed to return this baby to its rightful owner ASAP.
And yet, just when I was about to throw in the towel, there came a
day when my daughter and I clicked. And it was on those days, the
good days, that I could see how my life had changed for the better.
For months I had felt as if I accomplished nothing. But instead I
had nurtured this new life and helped her become a happy, content,
curious, playful, and wonderful child. This baby had needed me to
guide and love her. And the loving part came easy.
And those are the days nobody ever told me about either. Nobody told
me how overwhelming this love for my child would feel. Nobody told
me how heart-wrenching it would be to see my child get hurt or
become sick. They also didn't tell me how effortless it would be for
me to rock that sick, crying baby all night. Nobody could have
prepared for how much infinite joy this baby would bring into our
lives. And nobody told me that I would learn just as much, if not
more, than my baby during that first year of motherhood.
The truth is nobody could have told me what to expect when I was
expecting. As a previously unenlightened childless woman, I had no
concept of how one tiny, helpless infant could affect my mental,
emotional, and physical landscape. And frankly, even if other
parents tried to tell me the truth, I'm sure I wouldn't have
believed them. Parenthood has to be experienced, in order to be
truly understood and appreciated. Even after Olivia was born, Mike
and I foolishly expended way too much energy trying to get her to
adhere to our archaic notion of order. We thought we could get back
to business as usual, even though our business had become extremely
unusual. Nobody told us that ultimately parenthood is about
embracing the chaos and making it your own.
My advice to all new parents is to stop fighting the current and go
with the flow. Once you get over the initial culture shock of
parenthood, you must learn to accept that this is not a temporary
arrangement. Your new roomie is a permanent resident who just
happens to wield a heck of a lot of power and quite a bit of poop. A
sense of humor, coupled with love and affection, will get you
through most, if not all of the rough spots. Just remember that now
that you've become a family, your days most likely aren't going to
be predictable, productive, tidy, or quiet any time in the near
future. But the overall quality of your life will increase tenfold.
And in rare, quiet moments, you'll stare at your sleeping baby,
swell with pride, and think "Nobody told me there would be
moments like these. Nobody."
