They don't tell you all the details of having a child.
They tell you that breastfeeding is best, and that you must never, ever shake your baby. They repeat this over and over and over. They say that you shouldn't eat too much tuna fish because it's got a high mercury content that can cause birth defects and things. They tell you that babies cry over a myriad of things and that it's best to know which kind of crying is which -- and that, eventually, you learn. They tell you that diapers and spit-up aren't quite as bad as they seem.
They'll tell you a lot of things.
What they DON'T tell you, though, could fill volumes.
They don't tell you that, at least for a few days after the birth, you feel completely unsexy. Not in an "oh-boys-won't-find-me-attractive" sort of way, but in that, "I-have-a-cold-and-I-feel-dirty-and-gross" sort of way. Neither showers, nor favorite outfits, nor the affection of others will alleviate this. They don't mention the fact that you won't be able to tell when you have to go to the bathroom now that there's no tiny human being pressing up against your bladder; they don't tell you that you'll have to put yourself on a schedule so that you don't FORGET to go until it's well past too late.
They don't tell you about the aches and pains in the really weird places -- in the forearms, in the facial muscles, in the legs... They don't tell you that you'll limp for a few days, and it'll feel like your legs have come unscrewed from the hips.
Nobody mentions that it actually feels REALLY disgusting to give birth.
Nobody says anything about waking up and going about the business of caring for the baby, and realizing that you're covered in various fluids: breast milk, formula, sweat, spit, possibly urine, tears from the baby, tears from yourself, water from the sink, water from the hot bowl you're using to warm up the milk, water from your tea, cream the hospital gives you to prevent infections, cream for the baby's skin...
Nobody told me that it would feel like a triumph to successfully go to the bathroom. Generally, this has always been something I've taken for granted.
Nobody told me that it's the most helpless feeling in the world to hear the baby crying, and have no fucking clue what she wants.
They don't say anything about the baby's dry skin. They don't tell you how to change a diaper. They forget to mention that, for a little while, you sit around wondering when the baby's parents are going to come home so that you can finally get some sleep...
They don't tell you what it feels like to be awake for 24 hours straight, trying not to cry along with the baby.
They don't tell you any of that stuff.
Furthermore, they don't tell you that it's completely worth it.
I woke up at one yesterday afternoon to feed Bean. I changed her. She ate. She burped. She fell immediately back to sleep. I laid her down in our bed next to Neil, plopped half a dozen cushions and blankets against her so that she couldn't roll over and tumble out of the bed, and went about some other kind of business for a few minutes.
...And when I turned around to check on her, I saw that she and Neil were sleeping in EXACTLY the same position -- both on their backs with their heads turned to the right, both with their right hands above their heads. They had identical looks on their faces. And I swear, I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life. Fuck pretty rainbows and pretty paintings and whatever the hell else; this was, beyond the shadow of a doubt, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
They don't tell you that after babies eat, they get very sleepy, and they lay against your shoulder, growing heavier and heavier until you'd swear they're about twenty pounds of nothing but soft skin and soft hair.
They don't tell you that pretty much none of the shitty stuff matters.
I don't think I would have believed it if anybody HAD told me that, though.
My room-mate claims to hate kids. She's been claiming this since I moved in. She claims they're dirty and disgusting and ugly. She just hates them. She sort of promised to at least tolerate MY baby when she was born, but even that was sort of an iffy promise.
...But she's SO full of shit.
I'm not entirely sure she realizes it, but the girl is absolutely fascinated by Bean. I've caught her peering over the edge of the cradle. I've caught her peeking in at a diaper-changing. She reads the instructions on the baby lotions and suggests the right ones. Apparently, she made the announcement that Bean had been born, to everybody she could think of, including Neil's mom, and the cashiers at the local mini-mart. Yeah, seriously. Last night, she was talking about purchasing appropriate teething rings. Now, she still freaks out over the concept of actually TOUCHING Bean, and she damn near flipped out because Neil asked her to rock the cradle while the two of us were doing other things... but this is NOT somebody who hates kids. Somebody who's afraid of kids, maybe, but not somebody who hates them.
This amuses the hell out of me. I'm surprised almost to the point of being shocked, but I'm delighted all the same. I was really very unsure about the whole situation before. I honestly thought my room-mate would be too self-centered to cope with a child in the house. I thought she'd freak out. Hell, I thought she'd MOVE out. Maybe she's gone into crisis mode and is holding herself together through sheer force of will and survival instinct. But miraculously, she's actually been REALLY cool about the whole thing, even going so far as to clean the kitchen and take the garbage out so that I wouldn't have to do it. I mean, I came home from the hospital and the freaking dishwasher was running. Nobody EVER does the dishes around here except me -- it's a gross job, and it's a pain in the ass. And frankly, I wasn't expecting ANYTHING of the sort from my room-mate.
I was thinking maybe somebody switched bodies with her, and she's, like, some kind of X-Files-ish freak now...
...But I suppose I'll look at the situation with a bit more optimism and just say I'm pleasantly surprised. Very pleasantly surprised. This is really cool.
I hear fussing.
Pictures soon, I promise.
~Helena*