When I look at my darling daughter, usually when she’s asleep, I feel so lucky to have such an amazing little girl. Sometimes during my ‘hormonal week’ I look at her and cry out of amazement that I made something as amazing as her (all me, nothing to do with LagerDad of course). But that really doesn’t make a very good story; I may as well change my middle name to “Mummy to” and post her every shit and step on Facebook with thoughts like that.
So, lets take it back to the start.
I’ll say it, I didn’t enjoy it and it definitely wasn’t my definition of amazing. In fact about 5 days in – at around 3am – I questioned why on earth we had even made this decision to want children. To plan this non-sleeping, completely nocturnal baby?
I thought it was going to be rainbows and buttercups, unicorns and glitter. A new accessory to dress up and spend my (non-existent) money on.
Truth was, I was carting around 20 inch thick maternity pads in my apple catchers, my tits were being comforted by lettuce leaves and my chin(s) were holding up my eye bags. Lets not even mention the last time Tresemme had touched my locks. Get me the hell back to my old life.
“Babies are pretty boring” I thought, they just sleep a lot in the day. HA HA HA, well my non child-laden friends, when that first one comes into your life and you want it to do stuff, remember to lap the non-moving, non-talking stage right up!
I joined every class known to man to escape the four walls of baby sleeping boredom, I even joined a baby massage group as I heard it made them sleep through the night. It didn’t. I was just £65 lighter. Which lets face it, SMP is already light enough.
Why don’t these people just tell the truth I thought? Surely all these kids have not exited the womb and just fell into a glorious sleep pattern. Why are all these mothers swanning about with clean hair and mascara on? Who has time for that shit! Why are these mums having rainbows and buttercups? What did I do so wrong to mother nature?
Why don’t they teach you that not only welcoming the biggest game changer ever, but having severe sleep deprivation alongside it, sometimes makes for a really shit outlook on life – especially in my case, at 3am. I used to sob wondering how many days it was until 8 years went past (in my dark days I imagined 8 years was when they decided to sleep all night and past 6am).
Then one day, boom, clarity came and I remembered back to the birth day. Stop moaning about sleep; it’s not that important in the grand scheme of things.
I realised that just because I wasn’t the most maternal mother to step out of Winchester hospital that in fact I really loved you, sleep or no sleep. And even in those brief seconds when you were first handed to me, all 8.5lb of you from my (now-huge) vagina, that I would literally do anything for you. Even with your bright purple beetroot body and cone head. When LagerDad left us in the hospital that evening; he was ‘exhausted’ apparently…such a long strenuous body-stretching day for the poor fellow…it was just me and you against the world kiddo.
This shit is amazing.
And anyway, who needs sleep when you can glide around patting yourself on the back knowing you pushed a watermelon out of a polo mint sized hole and men die over a cold?