I was so excited when I had my first baby. She was all ours/mine to take care of.
At first I looked forward to the day I would be able to leave the hospital. When I would be able to do whatever I wanted and not worry about what the bitchy nurses would say.
And, I would be all alone with Lala.
Lala in her harness
As this realization sunk in, I began to dread going home. Lala was so little and helpless. As a consequence of being in the breech position for too long, she had to wear a harness due to hip dysplasia and I constantly worried about not putting it back on correctly after changing or bathing her. She wasn’t nursing well and I worried if she was getting enough nourishment. The head-bitchy-nurse told me Lala’s new skin rash erupted because I was holding her too much and I worried I was hovering. She cried all night and I worried I wasn’t holding her enough.
I worried…
They said we could go home soon and then I would be all alone with her.
Oh god…
When I was given the option of staying in the hospital another night to have my stitches taken out, I leaped at the chance. Nay…bounded…and shouted from the top of my lungs, “YES!!!”
When I was finally sent home with her, I felt as if I was operating on the precipice of an anxiety attack at every moment. Everything suddenly became deadly from unsterilized bottles to un-organic cotton onesies. I would place her baby monitor mere centimeters from her face and sit anxiously in the living room (10 feet away on the same floor) with the volume on the baby monitor turned up all the way, listening to her breathe. This of course was in between the 4 minute intervals where I would go in and check on her, feel her breath with my palm and check for a heartbeat.
I was going crazy.
I became neurotic. Hats were mandatory at all times, bottles fastidiously sterilized within an inch of their life, and breasts pumped at every available moment so as to glean every drop of their disappointing and unsatisfactory output.
Somehow, I managed to keep Lala fed, clean, and most importantly, alive.
I continued on this way for months. Questioning every choice and the minutiae of it all started to get to me. I started attending playdates, after I finally realized they were not for the babies. These gatherings were a place for new mommas to congregate, share information, talk about breasts and poop, and occasionally cry. I realized I was not alone.
These other new mommas were all neurotic and crazy too.
After Lala turned 1, I turned a corner. I relaxed a little as she seemed sturdier and harder to damage.
And, most importantly, I had kept her alive for a whole year…
When Lala was 2, I had another baby. Little Em was also a c-section, but I left the hospital a mere 36 hours after I had her. I was anxious for the opposite reason I had been with Lala; I wanted to get Little Em home.
As I settled into motherhood “a-deux” I realized something: I was not as neurotic and terrified as I was the first time.
And, as I reconnected with the new-momma scene I realized something else: New mommas are neurotic and annoying…
I started thinking about when I first had Lala, and how strange I thought it was that the momma’s of the older children in my complex didn’t really socialize with us new mommas. We would linger in the courtyard, starving for adult human contact, whilst trying to keep our babies from eating the sand and poking their own eyes out. These “experienced” moms, who had kept their kids alive much longer than us, would merely nod and whisk past us as quickly as possible.
And, now I knew why. We were annoying and neurotic and we probably reminded those experienced mommas of the days when they were annoying and neurotic too.
Times they probably would like to forget.
I wonder what it would have been like to not worry everyday that I was going to somehow screw up or forget something that would hurt the baby. To know that babies are much more sturdy than we think and that we new mommas have better instincts than we thought. That we are all doing a good job and that we are our own harshest critics. That the only ones making us neurotic and annoying is ourselves. There is no rule book for raising children. I guess being as neurotic as possible is the next best thing.
So, here is a shout out to all your neurotic-new-momma-nut-cases! Go ahead and make them wear hats inside the house! Buy a tank to drive them around in and spend thousands of dollars on shit you don’t need if it makes you feel like you are doing a good job.
Because, you are doing a good job, you just don’t know it yet.
xoxo
Amen! Be as crazy as you wanna be with that first one. Because you’re NEW at this, and ultimately you’re responsible for whatever happens. I made no apologies to anyone about my requirements for baby care during that first year. And I don’t plan to.
Crazy is as crazy does.
Its so hard not to tell new-crazy-mommas that it will all be good and they don’t have to worry about everything, but you have to learn the hard way.
Look how adorable they are! I think it’s pretty hard not to be a little neurotic when it hits you that you’re responsible for a brand new person. That’s some scary stuff at first.
They are adorable and luckily, quite sturdy. My focus has now changed to basic life skills now that I have kept them alive this long. I spent 30 mins today trying to convince Little Em to wipe her own bum. Fun…
Good times!
I so remember that when I had Pauline. I was in the hospital for a week and a total freak for way longer than that. With Marius, I went home the next morning!
When I had Pauline I shared the hospital room with a woman who was on her sixth child. She told me that she only worries about keeping the house clean enough so the kids don’t get sick. I was mortified!
Ha, that made me laugh. Right after I had Lala I remember meeting a mom who had 3 kids and when her baby lost its pacifier on the floor she calmly picked it up, sucked on it, and put it back in her baby’s mouth. I was horrified! Couple years later I did the exact same thing with my second baby!
Amen. Amen. Yep. Yep. and, oh, yep
I SO relate. I’m on my 3rd kid now and I look back at my first and just remember and then nod at those going through it now. We all have to go through a first though. And it teaches us a lot… (hopefully?) 
Jeepers, I hope I learned something. One thing I’ve become good at: figuring out if mystery brown stuff is poop or chocolate…
What a lovely post. Women in general are neurotic. Not me off course. I am just blond…
Lol! You are just lovely regardless…
This is such a sweet post. I was the SAME WAY with my first baby. Ugh. I thought I was going to lose it and never come back.
Thank god sanity returns. Now, if only my shoe and waist size would return as well :c(
Oh this was so timely. I was completely neurotic and anxious too (probably still am, but to a lesser degree, I hope) and I worry about being that way with a second. But you’re right–every new mom goes through this fear and terror.
Terror is right! My goodness, I actually had a moment where I couldn’t believe that they were going to send her home with me. Me!
Congrats on your second donut, eh?
I love this post! That is exactly how I felt! Terrified to go home, and then other moms were a godsend. I, too, remember congratulating myself on her first birthday with pride and some shock that I had kept her alive the whole year. I haven’t been lucky enough to have another, but I know if I am I will enjoy babyhood so much more. I think this is why it’s good to have at least 2, if you can, one to go through it, and one to actually ENJOY. Thanks for nailing how many of us felt so eloquently.
Thanks P.C.! I think you are right about having the second one, god knows what kind of a mess I would be right now if it wasn’t for Little Em!
This is SOOO TRUE. And it’s hard to explain to women who haven’t had children yet. My friend was trying to pick my brain about having a baby the other day. It is hard. The worry, the worry, the worry. ANXIETY. The loneliness. I saw a quote the other day about Moms being better researchers than the FBI when something is off with their child. Reminded me of that too. All the time I spent on the internet looking for answers, talking to friends, calling the doctor.
I know, I can’t even remember how many times I took Lala to the dr when she was a baby for basically nothing…
pictures are BEAUUUUUUUUUtiful