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The Things No
One Tells You
 It's
really remarkable that we can read so many books and talk to so
many people about our forthcoming motherhood and still be left so
shell-shocked once the bundle of joy arrives. As far as I can tell,
you can be fully prepared with regards to all the things you must
buy. (This is a real shocker. How amazing that we are good at consuming
retail items under the guise of necessity.) Diapers, wipes,  baby
clothes-out-the-wazoo, blankets, strollers,
bassinets, toys for six months out, a crib, yummy linens, a Britax
car seat, a Bjorn, a diaper bag... it goes on and on. And we
should all enjoy this part of it. It's the only time your husband
won't question your purchases, as he's always wondering if his child's
not having said necessity will scar him for life. But the bottom
line is that all that stuff quickly fades into the background and
you're left with your boob hanging out wondering why no one told
you ...
- Your nursing
bra is the size of a kite. If it weren't so nasty from the stains
of the petroleum jelly-ish-but-worse nipple cream, you could fly
it at the beach. Each triangle is a veritable tent. In my weakest
moments, I've thought that we should all hang them from our flag
poles as a sign of someone 'on the boob'. It could be a sign of
joint suffering.
- Breastfeeding
is emotional warfare. There is not other way to describe it. In
defeat, it is physical and psychological agony. Your nipples may
bleed, your entire boob region aches, and you feel like a milkcow
with no brain. (Breastfeeding makes you stupid. Seriously, you'll
be amazed at how much you'll forget. Plus, most of the time you're
just sitting there with dirty hair in nappy PJs
staring at the cracks in the ceiling because you're too tired
to do things like read enlightening
books on how to enjoy the miracle of breastfeeding.) If the
baby is hungry, you feel guilty. If the baby is full, he throws
up on you. And you start again. In victory, the defeats are made
negligible. The bonding, the loving, the fact that your baby is
growing because of what you are creating for him. Well, it's better
than having a
 Prada
bag in a roomful of snobs. It's perfection.
- Your husband
will never understand any of it. Don't even try to explain. The
elation, depression, confusion and wonderment at having delivered
a human the size of a football (Boys take an hour and a newspaper
to go #2. Can you imagine the production of them giving birth?),
the bittersweet of going out on date night (sweet) in your fat
girl jeans (bitter), why you need to talk to your mom 4 times
a day, or how you don't know what you've done all day even though
you didn't have time to get dressed and how it makes you feel
when he asks you how your day was even though he's trying to be
nice. He will never hear the baby cry in the middle of the night
before you do. He will never truly appreciate the smell of sour
milk curdling in your baby's neck fat rolls. And he will never
know the love of a mother.
- Speaking
of husbands, when bambino number two arrives, it is confirmed
by sources in my playgroup that you will not talk to your husband
unless you schedule a meeting. There is no time for casual conversation.
You must plan a meeting to discuss spaghetti, play school, doctor's
visits, leaky faucets, rodents in the basement or any other matter
pertinent to your daily life.
- You will
become socially anxious when around chic women without newborns.
It's payback for when you were single/without tot and you rolled
your eyes at the 'baby talk' and swore you'd never go on and on
about nipples, feeding schedules and nap time. Now that you live
the life of a fembot with bad hair and wretched coffee breath,
socially acceptable females with no concept of the sour milk perfume
that is all the rage in your house will make you very nervous.
I know you don't believe me, but you will also not know (or care)
what the "it" bag of the season is. You will opt for
comfort
over glamour
when it comes to shoes. And you will not care what you look like
when you go to the grocery. Shocking, I know, but you need to
go ahead and accept the fact that you may forget to get dressed
and run errands in your husband's boxers.
- You will
love more than you thought possible. You will replace all the
selfishness of your twirties with an unconditional love for a
person who in about 13 years time will ask you to drop them off
two blocks from school. You will race to see them sleep after
a night out. And you will forget all the agonies, pains and frustrations
when they look up at you from their crib and smile.
And that's news
from boobland. Have a happy and sour milk-free weekend.
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