baby daze
I’ve been so worn down with everything recently that I forgot something:
Once upon a time, my kids were babies.
I mean. Can you imagine it? Babies! They’re so tall now. Even my youngest. Sometimes I scoop him up, and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. He’s all skinny limbs, wild curls, and shin bruises. My daughter runs out of school and hugs me with such force that she can easily knock me over if I don’t remember to brace myself for it. My brain can’t compute that she used to lay there on my chest, milk-drunk and dreaming.
The baby days just … melted away.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently. Like many things, as I get older, I think about all the ways I could have done things better. If I got my chance again. How would I plan our wedding now? What career choices would I make? But obviously, I can’t go back and hindsight is a real pain in the arse.
So I’m writing this down, on the off-chance that either a) I’m talking to someone who has a baby or is just about to have one or b) someone invents a time machine in the near future. Here are some things I wish I knew about the baby (and toddler) days:
Humans like to categorise themselves
Attachment parents over here. ‘Green’ parents over there. Etc. The internet makes this phenomenon approximately one thousand times worse. Most people just muddle through in reality.
This will teach you that too much time spent on Facebook is not good for you (or anyone).
Baby groups can be either a) a wonderful support network and a place to make life-long friends and memories or b) hellish
It may take some time to find the right one. Also, the right one is not necessarily the one with the shiniest toys/the most up-to-the-moment sensory activities. The right one may be the one with the ancient wooden blocks and dubious lighting. You know, the one with the nice lady in the kitchen that always remembers how you take your coffee and offers to hold your baby so you can drink it at a reasonable temperature.
Those decisions feel dauntingly huge for a reason
If I introduce a bottle feed at night, will my baby reject my boobs in favour of magical, but possibly evil formula? If I puree their carrots will they never learn to chew? If I let them cry a bit will they resent me? If I pick them up when they cry will I still be doing that when they’re twenty-one and probably twice my height?
These little things feel big because you love and care for your baby and you want them to be safe and to grow up properly. So while you know you’re probably being ridiculous in overthinking things, it’s kind of your job to be ridiculous. So carry on. (But also it really will be fine, do whatever, your baby will be fine, everything is going to be fine)
Soft play is actually more important than you realise
Soft play is germy and disgusting. You will have to contort yourself into impossible shapes if your kid gets stuck (which they will). You will either spend time denying your child a Slush Puppie, or money buying them a Slush Puppie. Every time you will come away with a headache and ringing ears. But one day, soft play will be unavailable to you thanks to a global pandemic and every single member of your family will pine for the days that you could allow your children to climb on something other than the sofa. So make the most of them while you can.
One day you will miss the following things:
- Froggy legs during nappy changes
- Baby sneezes
- Extremely small, pea-shaped toes
- That wide-eyed look of amazement that they have at the smallest things (leaves blowing in the wind, a passing cat, etc)
- Their total lack of understanding of anything you watch or listen to
- A pushchair (useful for balancing shopping bags)
- How cheap they are to maintain
And you won’t miss the following things:
- The need to carry a suitcase-sized bag with you at all times
- Traumatic poo incidents
- Those weird bulb-shaped snot sucker things (really can’t fathom anything more disgusting at the time of writing)
- Having to remember how old your child is in weeks
- Turning the house upside down to retrieve the sodding red book before every single appointment
- A constant, niggling fear that you are currently or will do something wrong with disastrous consequences
- Not sleeping
Just ask for help when you need it
Seriously. Your child’s teacher doesn’t hand out Star Pupil trophies to parents who managed to do everything in the baby/toddler/preschool years by themselves without asking for help. (Turns out the trophies are saved for the actual children.)
Just ask for help. Tell someone when you’re struggling, ask someone to come round when you’re on your knees with exhaustion, call your sister when your baby projectile vomits all over the sofa — just ask. When someone says ‘Let me know if you need anything’ instead of saying ‘Will do!’ say ‘actually I need someone to make me a meal/watch the baby so I won’t worry that they will somehow learn to walk and wander out of the front door while I’m in the shower/reassure me that I won’t feel always feel like I’m being perpetually kicked in the groin’ (delete as appropriate).
Having a baby is an Extremely Large Life-Changing Event. It requires help. No (wo)man is an island. Just ask for help and accept that you are not a subnormal human for wanting that.
This too shall pass.
This is both good and bad.
On the one hand, those bad feelings you might be dealing with (anxiety, terror, overwhelm, loss of identity, totally soul-destroying unfathomable exhaustion) will pass. One day you will remember those vaguely sad feelings and think ‘surely it wasn’t that bad?’. And one day a bit later on you will completely forget those sad feelings and that is the moment to stay away from your husband and try to vividly recall the agony of labour.
But what also passes are the quiet moments. There’s nothing quite as serene as sitting down with your baby fast asleep on your chest and sniffing their hair. Or getting into bed with a baby on one side and a toddler on the other to enjoy an ultra-rare synchronized nap.
It’s strange, the things that stick in my mind. Pushing a sleeping baby in a buggy on a warm day. Pointing out a conker on the ground. Those very small and seemingly everyday moments will one day be gone. Treasure them. But also don’t stress about it too much, because …
Your kids will continue to amaze you
One day they’ll go out into the world without you and they’ll actually achieve things. And those things don’t have to be big things. Your child might not be the smartest or the most accomplished. But sometimes they will push themselves and reach a new milestone that you previously thought was beyond them. And because you know them, this will feel like the most incredible victory.
You will bombard your child with things you think are cool (Harry Potter, the intricacies of plant care, sci-fi, Crash Bandicoot) and at least one of those things will stick, and that is unfathomably amazing.
Most impressive of all, they will do things you won’t expect. Some of those things won’t be so good. But some of those things will be excellent. And the continual unfolding surprise is a massive blessing (mostly).
So yes, occasionally, you will stumble upon a picture of them as a tiny baby and it will make you cry actual tears and the only response from your children will be a half-hearted pat on the back and an eye-roll.
But mostly, raising them will remind you of how fleeting life is, and to make the most of it, never taking yourself too seriously, never hanging onto anything too dearly, never taking anything for granted, and most of all, prioritising love.
Above all else, love.
(And seriously
everything will be fine.)
