Starry-Eyed Surprise

I finally saw Baby Mama, and while I understand the complaints about the film, I have to say that dude, THAT WAS MY BIRTHING CLASS, perineal massage talk and all. Perhaps my instructor didn’t have a speech impediment, but still, it was something. My God.

You know, people warned me about The Breastfeeding Hunger, but really, I was not prepared. Like, not even a little. As you know, I was never hungry during pregnancy, so while it’s one thing to have one’s appetite return, it’s another to suddenly be able to eat the entire kitchen, plus whatever the neighbors are stocking in their refrigerators, which I’m secretly hoping includes cookies.

Seriously, I’m starving. Do you have anything to eat? Anything at all? Pop Tarts? Cookies? ANYTHING AT ALL OH MY GOD? I am SO HUNGRY.

Speaking of food, I didn’t mention it during my last post, but I’d already given up dairy by the time I posted about The Screaming, and I’m happy to say it seems to have worked, or at least we have some serious improvement on the timing. While yes, it’s true that They (who is They?) say that it takes several weeks to leave your system, the majority of it is out in 24 hours, and also, They have no idea how much dairy I was eating. Macaroni and cheese! Lasagna! Half-gallons of milk! Cheese with every meal! Ice cream! I was a walking dairy bar in every sense of the word, and I was shooting a stream of angry cow milk proteins right in my kid’s snarfling maw every hour on the hour.

(Truth? I don’t even know if I buy it, but I tried it anyway.)

To say this is an improvement on my overall enjoyment of this experience is a vast understatement. I still dread the evenings and the Will She or Won’t She Sleep? horror, but it’s SO MUCH LESS, because even when she does melt down, it’s MUCH EARLIER. By the way, that issue is fraught with terror either way, because if she sleeps too much I assume there’s something WRONG (as evidenced by her first four-hour stretch when I PANICKED), but if she sleeps too little, I’m crying with exhaustion. Ah, new motherhood. A fascinating mosaic of disjointed frustration.

I’m a little embarrassed by how this has changed me — all the things I swore I would never do, I’m now doing, and can’t imagine any other way. I ordered a co-sleeper! I’m about to whip out the Ergo so I can wear my kid! I’m planning to breastfeed until she’s 16!

HA HA. I kid on that last bit. I’ll also say that this experience has surprised and humbled me and reminded me to never say how I will or won’t do things until I’m actually there. And you know, to never judge anyone on any parenting thing because blah blah unique snowflakes blah.

That being said, I’ve turned into a person I didn’t see coming, and I feel like I’m cheating on myself, because I thought I’d be able to snarkily screech about how ANNOYING this is, and how everyone who ever complained about it was SO RIGHT and OH MY GOD, PARENTHOOD, THE HORROR.

I don’t do earnest well.

And while I GET that and have total moments of it, it’s not my overall experience, and if you missed it the first time, IT MAKES ME FEEL GUILTY. See also: fear of other shoe dropping. Like this means some sort of awful shit is going to hit the fan. It’s strangely stressful, in a whiny, cry-me-a-river sort of way.

So far, by the way, the most disarming thing about parenthood that no one told me about was how unintentionally HYSTERICAL it is to see a whimpering, writhing baby suddenly let out the world’s loudest fart (seriously, they’re louder than ADULT FARTS), openly sigh with relief, then pass out cold with a grin on her face.

Something ELSE no one told me? What letdown feels like for some. Which, for me, is actually painful and a little overactive. Pins and needles my ass. Me? I ACHE.

Happy Monday! (OMG I KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS.)

*Paul Oakenfold. In my head since Baby Mama.

33 comments April 5th, 2009