1. When people tell you to make the most of the time before the baby comes - realise that this is profound advice. Realise also that you will never actually truly appreciate this advice until it's too late. Remember fondly those days you wasted DOING THINGS when you could have been vegging in front of the TV. Idiot.
2. Don't bother buying new clothes for, oh, let's say, a year. I am four months in, and have regurgitated formula milk on the left shoulder of every top I own.
3. Add an hour on to any appointments you might make. Lunch with friends at one? Start trying to leave the house at twelve, and you might make it. Changing bag packed? Check. Nappy changed? Check. My own make up? Hit and miss, but - check. Nappy sniffed again to ensure that was just a massive fart? Check. My shoes on? Check. My lovely heels taken off as totally unsuitable, and replaced with flip flops? Check. Projectile vomit mopped up? Check. Baby in car seat? Check. Tantrum? Check. Keys and purse? Check. Baby straining for enormous shit as we walk to the door? Check. Baby unstrapped and nappy changed? Check. Out the door we go - a breeze. Scrap that, add a fucking day to any appointment you might make. And take a spare top.
4. Never, ever, ever discuss your 'plans' for the baby, before it arrives. Never say "Oh, my child will not be having a dummy". Never say "Goodness no, don't want a clingy baby. I will not be cuddling this one to sleep all the time." Don't think about dismissing anything, and certainly don't make smug speeches about how things will be. You will end up dining out on your words more than once. Batten down the hatches and get some kip in, it's the best you can do.
5. Ignore all of this as the more I write, the more I realise I am perhaps just actually terrible at this. Ha!
6. Don't worry when you feel like you are going clinically insane. Like, literally mad. It's normal apparantly.
7. Make sure none of your friends are midwives, and if they are - ditch them.
8. Grit your teeth when people tell you to 'sleep when the baby sleeps'. Great idea in theory. In practice, you have 400 million things to do while baby sleeps, and you can guarantee one of them is to eat. Mind you, baby will snap it's eyes open just as you lift the fork to your mouth, so don't buy expensive food. It will all go to waste.
9. Ignore anyone who wants to force their BIRTH STORY onto you. It will scare you, cos, well; it's fucking scary. Tell them to shut up and don't allow yourself to envisage their ripped gooch. I don't remember a great deal from my BIRTH STORY, as I was off my tits on all the drugs they could give me. I can remember pissing myself and shouting at the midwife about it, and my mum and sister having a chinese (meal, not person) delivered. Some faff and noise and pain later, I saw my lovely boy being lifted out of my midsection like a prize from a tombola. Not sure I captured the emotion of the moment by slurring "why's it covered in custard?" before passing out.
10. Enjoy it. Apparantly.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
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