Nothing can prepare you for
The waiting
The dreaming
The worrying
Who will this be?
Will they look like me?
Which of my faults will they carry?
The fear
Of eating the wrong thing
Sleeping on the wrong side
Or something going wrong for no reason at all
Completely out of my control
The effort
Of performing well in my day to day life
While there’s a secret growing inside me
Which makes me feel on the verge of vomit
Pretty constantly
And which I can’t stop thinking about
As I try not to touch my stomach
Too often
And give the game away before I mean to
The worrying
Who you might upset when the news comes out
Who will think it’s the wrong timing
Or who will reel back from their own pain
Of former trauma and loss
And how to tell them
And how to tell anyone
And who should be first
And how will work respond
And what if it all comes to nothing
How will I cope
And what about the labour
How will I cope
And what will I do when they’re born
How will I cope
Will they love me
And will I love them
Will I be enough for them?
Who will this be?
Nothing can prepare you for
The labour
No matter what classes you go to
Because it’s the longest night of your life
The most exciting
The most terrifying
For some, apparently zen
For me
Not so much
And I avoided the negative birth stories
And now wish I’d been more aware
But thank God (literally) for modern medicine
And this epidural
Did you know you can sleep during labour?
Not the pushing bit
But some of it
And is this really my body?
Can my body really do this?
How?
Well, can’t change my mind now
Nothing can prepare you for
The newborn
The starvation of sleep
The physical recovery to endure
Without any rest to do it in
While your breasts hurt
Even with the creams
And apparently a good latch
And you can’t stop leaking everywhere
And your best PJs are ruined
And the floor is cold every time the screaming drags you
From the peace of dreams
So you buy new slippers
And wistfully imagine
A future where your PJs are dry
Unstained
And you don’t have to wear a bra to bed
To make that a reality
And the pressure to be normal
As much as you can be
Not pressure from anyone else to be fair
But pressure from yourself
To get up and out
And show your baby to the world
(As far as C19 will allow
In my case)
And to get back to some kind of exercise
And back to your old sexy self
Though that’s the last thing you can imagine
Enjoying right now
When you’ve got milky vomit
On your clothes
Or in your hair
Or in your bra
Most of the time
And that’s assuming you’re one of the lucky ones
Who has love at first sight with your baby
For some it takes a long time to come
As you still don’t really know
This little being
Who howls and sniffles and grunts
And doesn’t smile for nearly two whole months of life
And doesn’t sleep through
For a whole year (in my case).
I didn’t have that moment
Of the rush of love
But for me that’s because I honestly loved him already
Before he even came out of my body
I’m one of the lucky ones with that
Nothing can prepare you for
The way that friendships will change
Because most don’t and can’t understand
Like I didn’t
When I didn’t invite babies to my wedding
And didn’t understand why the friends with babies
Couldn’t come without them
And you can’t do anything just for you anymore
Because even a car journey
Is an exertion beyond description
Especially while your little one
Isn’t even allowed to be left in their car seat
Beyond the two hour mark
For fear of sudden death (literally)
And you genuinely need to pack all of your earthly belongings
Every time you leave the house
And there’s always a last minute poo/vomit/screaming fit
Right by the door
When you thought you were set
And that’s assuming that you’ve regained control
Of your own pelvic floor
And won’t need to stop every 20 minutes
For your own bodily functioning
And pack spare pants and trousers
Because you could genuinely pee
With no warning
On your way to anything
And you need to drink pints of water
Which doesn’t help
Because the milk you’re producing
Has to come from somewhere
And while we’re back on the feeding for a minute
Nothing will prepare you for
The way you judge yourself
And the way you feel others’ judgement
In those little ‘helpful’ comments
Like “Baby needs Mamma’s milk”
When someone you don’t know that well
Sees you hold a bottle
In your moment of relief
Because you finally found that there was one thing
You could do to make this whole endurance test
Physically possible for you
Whilst keeping your sanity comparatively in tact
(There are many things that mothers judge each other for
This was my one
There will be something that is yours
Even though we know we’re all in this impossible thing
And we know we need to cut ourselves and each other
Some slack
And not everyone judges
But especially when you’re sleep deprived
It’s hard to forgive yourself for the decisions you make
And it’s hard to comprehend why others
Would choose differently)
Nothing will prepare you
For the ultimate realisation
That my body is not my body anymore
My time is not my time
My sleep is not my sleep
My heart is not my heart
It’s that little person over there
And there’s nothing in the world that will make me ever love him any less
And there’s nothing in the world that will ever make me less responsible for him
For all of his life
So I will never stop thinking about him again
For all of his life
And I will hold onto the knowledge that he is the best thing in my life
For all of his life
And I will be grateful
Even in the tears
And the heartache
And the sleeplessness
And the physical changes
And the practical changes
And the dreams that I can’t see a way to anymore
Because it’s not about me anymore
It’s about you, my little one, my darling
For all of your life
For all of my life
And I love you with all of my being
And more than I ever knew I would have to give.
