Things No-one Warned Me Would Happen

…When I became a mother

‘I’m actually the easiest part!’

'Congratulations! OMG she looks just like you! Like a little squishy tomato! What's wrong with tomatoes? They're delicious! Don't worry about her head, it will inflate back to normal once she gets over the trauma of birth. Oops, did I say trauma? I meant joy! The joy of birth! You didn't enjoy childbirth? Oh wow, I found it to be the most incredibly liberating experience ever. I just basked in the warm glow of creating life. Every contraction was like a little surge of excruciating love.'

A little pre-emptive side note: Of course, this post is completely subjective, based entirely on my personal experience of motherhood. People tread their own path to being parents, be it adoption, surrogacy, donors, etc, so not all of these experiences are relevant to them. Just like they'll have experiences that I'll never know.

Now that I've said that, here are the things nobody told me would happen when I blundered into motherhood.

1. Welcome to pregnancy, where everyone has an opinion on your body.

‘I can’t believe how revolting you look!’

Up until fairly recently (like a few decades ago), having a big baby was a celebration. Well done, your baby is a monster. He was WHAT weight? Awesome! Let's all squish his beautiful rolls of wrist fat and kiss his flabby feet.

When I found myself in the expectant category I would sometimes stand looking in the mirror watching my body change and it was so exciting. I was actually looking pregnant. 'Hurray!' I cheered. 'Hurray!' people agreed, 'Look at you!' 'Oh,' they said as time went on, 'you're still getting bigger...wonderful, I guess!' and then; 'Slow down now, that baby will be a bruiser - holy shit STOP GETTING SO BIG! WHAT ARE YOU HAVING? TWINS?' 

Maybe nobody told you, they certainly didn't tell me, but the only goal of pregnancy is to be 'neat'. Not to grow a healthy baby, or to prepare your body for birth, or to look after yourself and rest. No, no. You need to be 'neat'. It's the only time being 'neat' is a compliment. If I wasn't pregnant and someone said I was 'neat' I'd assume they have completely run out of topics and are filling the silence with one syllable words that have a generally positive connotation.

So what the hell does 'neat' even mean?

Neat means that, if you're lucky, nobody will notice you're pregnant at all, and you'll be able to hide this shameful medical abomination until the teeny tiny sprog just slides out into the midwife's arms. You're so neat that you emerge from the hospital an exact replica of yourself pre-natal. You're so neat that people in your close inner circle will look at your new baby in astonishment and gasp; 'You were pregnant?!'

If you're not neat, well by Jobe, you'd better be about to pop. You'd better not be in your, God Forbid, 2nd Trimester. Jesus. Why don't you just stay indoors for the rest of your pregnancy instead of inflicting the hideous vision of your bloated, baby-full bod on the rest of us?  What's wrong with you? Go and eat some goddamn salad, you heffer. 

I was not prepared for the number of random people who suddenly had an opinion on my body. People I'd never met. Sometimes these strangers would even touch my belly. The most considerate of them would ask if it's ok to touch my belly WHILE touching my belly. What am I supposed to do then? Scream and run away? Stab their hands repeatedly with a pen? I'm not someone who ever minded someone touching my pregnancy bump, but I can't even begin to imagine how horrible it would be if I were. 

But even if they didn't touch my belly, they'd sure as hell comment on it. Here's an actual conversation I had with a random woman in a changing room, while I was standing half naked in a maternity bra and maternity jeans, looking absolutely aglow (with maternity sweat):

Woman: (smiling serenely, like I was Gaia herself) Can I ask when your baby is due?
Me: (Resisting urge to say 'What baby?'): End of May.
Woman: (Now staring at my bump as though I'm suddenly John Hurt in Alien): ...Really? 
Me: Yes.
Woman: God. I would have thought it was much sooner than that.
Me: Oh. Okay then. 
Woman: You're very big, aren't you?
Me: I hate you, you horrible woman. A pox on all your houses. May Satan strike you down with all the flaming fires of hell. And may he send me an invite first so I can watch your infernal destruction firsthand.

This is all true, except for the last sentence, (because, for some reason, you never want to say anything to these people, for fear of seeming 'rude' or in the above case, 'mad'.) Why, in the name of John Hurt, is it ok to comment on pregnant people's bodies, when we've all come to accept that it's not ok to comment on anyone's body, ever? Can you imagine saying to someone in a changing room 'Oh. You're going to buy that? Doesn't really suit you, does it?'

Look, here's the thing, I already felt like an elephant, trundling about on my great big elephant legs. I didn't want to hear from randomers in the street about how 'very big' I was. And I especially didn't want to hear it while they stared in horror at my protruding stomach like I'm about to birth the Antichrist. There was a frickin human in there! I couldn't very well store her in my handbag, could I?

Any suggestions?

As someone pointed out to me, saying someone is 'very small' also isn't great. What if they're worried about the baby being underweight? What if they have a history of having underweight babies? So here's my takeaway; there's only one thing a pregnant person wants to hear:

'You look great, how are you feeling?' Follow that with: 'Can I get you anything? A foot rub, a hot chocolate, a slice of gateaux?' and you'll be their best friend forever. A pox on none of your houses, you wonderful person, may Satan throw a fabulous bubble party in your honour.

2. The World Lied To Me, PART 1

'I'm pregnant with triplets! Buy this dress and you'll look just like me!'

Oh sweet summer child, how naive you've been. You've been living in a green land of singing anthropomorphised birdies and fairy princesses. You still think politicians have our best interests at heart, don't you? You think the clouds are candyfloss and the moon is made of cheese. 

You've only gone and bought yourself some beautiful summer dresses, haven't you? You gone out and spent a fortune on some maternity clothes that sit 'just so', and you're dreaming all about how radiant and effervescent you'll look, sweeping through the meadows with daisies in your hands, or floating down the fresh fruit aisle in Aldi. Look! They'll say! She is truly blessed with child, how she glows! 

This was me, pre-baby #1. I thought I was about to sail through pregnancy looking and feeling exactly like they told me I would on TV shows, films, advertisements and online shopping catalogues. I did not look like that. Because, despite what TV and movies tell us, I didn't just gain weight on my tummy. Oh no. I gained weight everywhere; on my face, on my arms, on my legs, on my sweet-Jesus-do-they-even-make-bras-in-this-size breasts and even, yes it's true, on my feet. 

Only a blessed few of us will look like the pregnant women on screen look. Why? Because they're not pregnant. They're wearing a belly suit. They're still the same size zero body that they always were. They're LYING.

Sorry, I mean, acting.

​Even when pregnant, you won't be spared the bombardment of the unrealistic bullcrap that is 'How you're supposed to look.' I'm only grateful not to be in the public eye, because God help any actor or singer who looks like they're actually pregnant. They get body-shamed no matter what they do. 

Oh, and another LIE is the women you see wearing those maternity clothes when you're browsing that section online. She's not pregnant. She's a LIAR.

​Sorry, I mean, a model. 

Any suggestions? Or are you just here to complain?

You mean, aside from learning to love myself no matter what and ignore the crap of body-shaming the world seems intent to tell us is 'normal', despite there being no such thing as normal and every body type is normal, and maybe going back in time to tell myself to just stop caring about how I look and enjoy being pregnant?

Well, honestly...I do wish I'd curbed my enthusiasm when it came to buying for my first pregnancy. So if anyone wants advice, that's mine. I only ended up returning all those clothes or giving them to a charity shop, having spent my entire pregnancy in the same pair of comfy maternity jeans and big jumper because it hid the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra.

And yes, I know there are some people who go through pregnancy without gaining a single pound except on their tummies. Good for them. I'm happy for them. It's great. I. Am. So. Happy. For. Them.

3. The World Lied To Me, PART II

Rachel from Friends, minutes after giving birth (probably)

So you're already a bit suspicious about the fact that no-one warned you how you wouldn't look like the pregnant people on TV. Now you've given birth, you're thinking: what else isn't true, eh?

Well no, now you've given birth you've got a few weeks of recovery, sleep deprivation, nappy changing and feeding ahead of you. Not to mention hormone dips, frequent visitors (make THEM make the tea, you've just given birth) and trying to squeeze in teeth brushing and showers at least once a fortnight. So this section needs to wait until you've recovered from that. Go ahead and focus on the kid. I'll still be here when you get back.

How was it? Coming up for air yet? Right, so now you've been through that, you'll know what the second lie is. Post Partum. And nothing will sum up the extravagant lie we've been sold like this image of a model, displaying a nursing bra:

'Gee, this lactation has really played havoc with my beauty routine! I can barely find time to go to the gym!'

​I don't know this model. I have no idea who she is or what her history is. I'm sure she's a nice person. But I can absolutely guarantee you that not only is she NOT currently nursing, she has never ever breastfed or given birth to another human being. 

Look at her neat little breasts! The only time they've ever seen milk is when it fell out of her latte. Look at that teeny tiny stomach! Not a stretch mark or baby bulge in sight. Look at her face! She's never stared like a zombie into the dark abyss of the soul, wondering if the baby isn't sleeping because it's still hungry, or has wind, or needs a poo. She's smiling, for God's sake. She thinks a night feed is a late serving at Chapter 1.

Any suggestions? You seem to have just gone on a self pitying rant there.

This is the same shit they pull with 'maternity' models. We've just given birth ffs, can you not show us someone who is easily in the top ten most glamorous people in the world when we're desperately searching for another nursing bra? 

Post-Partum is a helluva shock to the system. Exhaustion coupled with hormone shifts can take a toll on your mental health and your physical stamina. You won't even know what day it is, the nights are so long they'll feel like a month, and the days zip by so fast you won't get anything done. And your body has taken a serious beating from which it needs to recover. There wasn't a single thing anyone said, or could have said, to prepare me for those weeks and months after the baby is born. It's like a trip to another planet. A scary planet run by a baby overlord who doesn't speak your language and to whom you make regular often rejected offerings, and all you can think is when will the spaceship arrive to take me back to earth?

You know what definitely didn't prepare me? Seeing models like this, or TV/Film characters hours after giving birth breezing about their living rooms in full glamour hair and make up with flat as pancake stomaches, acting as though giving birth is about as taxing as a slightly delayed flight.

If these women exist, I've never met one. 

If you, like me, bought a few nursing bras in advance and laid eyes on this model, or any of her ilk, you've now come to a harsh realisation. You don't look like this. You won't look like tv or film characters do. You won't look like this, or even yourself, for quite some time. And you won't feel up for doing anything more taxing than getting up from the couch. That's normal. That's the only thing that IS normal in this situation. It's not even that your body changed so much, but that it's changed so quickly. Getting back to any kind of sense of 'normal' whatever the heck that even is, is going to be a long journey, and it won't be helped by looking at models like this one and thinking this is in any way what the average human body will look like shortly after giving birth.

You're not the problem. We're not the problem. The image above is the problem. Rant over. (until the next section.)

PS: 
The best advice I got from a friend was this 'Stay in your pyjamas for as long as possible. At least two weeks. People expect less from you if you're in your pyjamas.'

It'll be no surprise to hear that she is a midwife and also has three kids. 

4. You will never be able to watch anything ever again.

'So what will we watch tonight? The show about the kidnapped baby, the murdered child or the mutilated sex workers?'

'Ooh ooh ooh let's watch all three!'

I'll preface this section by saying I'm a big horror fan. I love watching scary films, I love being scared, I love it. It's been my favourite genre since as long as I can remember.

But having children has turned me into an absolute complete and utter lightweight. I'll still watch them, but I have to force myself, and prepare physically and mentally. I hate that this has happened, and I don't for one second think that having a child makes people more empathetic - some of the most empathetic people I know are child free, and some of the worst people in the world have children. So that's not it. So what is it? I don't know. I just can't stomach it the way I used to.

But this is where horror actually trumps other genres. Because at least with horror you KNOW something grisly is going to happen, you can prepare yourself, or choose not to watch it at all. One thing I noticed after having a baby is how often the themes of dead or missing children is recycled over and over again in the most innocuous of places. It's everywhere. We, as a society, as a people, are obsessed with killing, especially women, and especially young women.

So, eh, da fuck's up with that?

Any suggestions? Shall we just change every single storyline to suit you?

Yes please! 

In all seriousness my toddler's viewing preferences have screwed up my streaming algorithm so much that the scariest thing I'm likely to stumble across is the Peppa Pig Halloween episode. And honestly, until I've found my Big Girl pants again that's all I'll be watching.

5. Clothes are gendered in the weirdest way

Above: Not intended for girls

I'm not going to go on about gendered clothing (clothes have no gender) because far more intelligent people than me have written far more eloquently on the topic. I mean, it's weird. Very, very weird. That's my summation.

But the strangest thing I've noticed is how specifically they're gendered. There's the obvious stuff like 'Boys wear tractors', 'Girls wear floral', but then it gets bizarre and really specific when it comes to animals.

Cats are for girl’s clothes. Dogs for boy’s. Why? Cats, last time I checked, are generally accepted to come in both male and female. Ditto dogs.

Girls get unicorns, ladybirds, rabbits and deer. Boys get everything else. Everything. Ducks, frogs, lions, bears. Monkeys, foxes, wolves. Snakes, crocodiles and even dinosaurs. Everything. Why? Who made this decision? And what's the basis? Why are ducks meant for boys and not girls? Why can't boys wear rabbits if they want to? I don't understand why these specific decisions are made. Someone explain it to me please. And don't even get me started on colours. 

So any suggestions?

Yeah. Buy whatever the hell you want in whatever colour, pattern or design you want. And let your kids do the same. The basic requirement of clothes is that they keep you warm and cover any bits that might accidentally get caught in a closing door. After that it's all aesthetic. Knock yourself out. 

6. Welcome to Parenthood, where everyone has an opinion on everything you do, every day, for the rest of your life.

'You sure you should be doing that?'

All right, here's the thing. I'm the worst person to give advice to. I hate unsolicited advice. I hate it. Why? That's for me to discover in some future therapy session.

I wasn't even going to mention this here, because I have such an aversion to unsolicited advice that it seemed for a long time this might be just a 'me' thing. Except that I've seen it crop up again and again. Other parents complain about it to each other, it's a legitimate advice section on a well known pregnancy/baby website, and there are endless forums dedicated to handling it. And I'm not talking about medical advice from medical professionals, and I'm not talking about the advice you ask for. I'm more than capable (and have done many times) of seeking advice on specific things about parenting.

I'm talking about the advice that you will now be bombarded with, constantly, every day for the rest of your life. On pregnancy, on childbirth, on childrearing. Diet, sleep, play time, schools. And here's the worst part:

No one agrees. On anything. Nothing. The advice is all conflicting. Everyone has a different opinion. So the hard part is just trying to drown out all the noise in those confusing early days when you're trying to listen to your gut and your baby. It was and is, for me, the worst part of parenting. 

Any suggestions? 

No, but if you have any I'd love to hear them.

It's been my experience that everyone parents their individual kids their own individual way. And trying to crowbar someone else's way of doing things - because it worked for them - onto your own self is like trying to belly dance in a space suit. It just won't feel right and it won't be anyone's idea of a pretty sight. 

I got great advice recently from a midwife: 'You're going to feel guilty no matter what you do, so just do what you feel is right.'

​It shouldn't have been, but it was the most comforting thing anyone had said to me since my kids were born. 

8. You forget childbirth

'Wait... Where did this guy come from again?'

'If childbirth was that bad, people wouldn't have second, third, or tenth children!'

Said me, in the days before I was due to give birth. And then again, while staring down the barrel of labour #2, thinking 'This must be true! How else could I have found myself in this situation again?'

The thing is, I HAD forgotten it. I had a vague memory of thinking 'This is the worst pain I could have ever imagined.' And my labour was quick - 3 and a half hours of active labour quick. And I recall holding the baby in my arms in the post labour ward and thinking 'Well, you're definitely going to be an only child, because I sure as hell won't ever go through that again!'

But I don't remember the feeling of the pain. I can't recall what contractions actually feel like, I just know they aren't pleasant. 

This isn't meant to scare anyone about to go into labour by the way (and there are lots of drugs available to numb the pain if you want them), but just a peculiar observation. My baby was only a few months old when I was talking about the best time to have another one. I've had memories of migraines that impacted me longer than that. 

When labour kicked in a second time I remember thinking 'Ooooooh shiiiiiiit, I remember this and I swore I wouldn't do it again and I'm doing it again and why am I doing this again and is it too late to back out?!'

And yet, as I sit here, 7 months post labour on my second, I can't recall the pain. I remember saying afterwards, as the midwife congratulated me on getting through it, 'Yes! At one point I wished I was dead.' 

'Haha.' She said, with distinct fear in her eyes. She had no children. 

Any Suggestions? Cos I suggest you get over yourself.

Course not. Labour is the worst pain imaginable. And nature wants us to forget how painful it is so we're not too scared to get up the duff again and keep this glorious human race continuing. That's the leading theory. My own theory is that nature is an asshole and it straight up hates us. It laughs at us. 'You swore you'd never do this again, and now look at you! Haha!'

If you are pregnant and you're reading this, thinking 'Gee, thanks for the pep talk' I've two things to say:

1.I'm no toughie when it comes to pain. But I did it, twice. Somehow, we go through it, we recover, we forget, we go through it again. Isn't nature a helluva thing? 

2.The above is nothing compared to the shrieking, screaming, Exorcist level depictions of labour as shown on TV, and in films. In my own limited experience I'm happy to tell you that this depiction is, shock horror, also wildly wrong.

​Huh. Probably should have added that to this list.