What I Wish I’d Known Before Boosting the Population (Repeatedly)
I’ve been called Gung-ho, before.
(This is usually accompanied by a blinking, incredulous stare, as my compatriot deliberates how best to communicate – politely – that they think I might be rather mad.)
I’m not sure where the belief comes from that I can do anything … that I can – in fact – do several “anythings” all at the same time. It’s connected to the related belief that I am actually invincible, and that this might be the set of circumstances that proves it, unequivocally, once and for all.
A couple of years back, I had what was – perhaps – my brightest idea to date. Mid way through my postgraduate studies, I decided to supplement my research into printing presses, gender and literary access with one Marriage and an accompanying small, Sleep-Stealing Alien.
For the record, I don’t regret either of these decisions. Both spouse and aforementioned Alien are a source of sheer joy. Still, with hindsight, I should have planned things slightly more carefully...
(Who am I kidding? I have learned nothing: last month I completed my PhD Viva exam whilst grappling with the rigours of Hyperemesis Gravidarum – a gift from the hormones accompanying Tiny Alien Mark 2: The Resurgence). I’m currently balancing teaching commitments, a partially completed emigration (along with resulting absentee spouse), bunking with my in-laws (due to aforementioned European flit), completing thesis corrections and attempting to be a positive natal environment for a fetus the size of a dwarf hamster.
That’s right – I’m meant to manage all the above without the assistance of gin or caffeine.
Anyhow, current interesting life choices aside, I thought I would try and summarise some of the bizarre and fascinating learnings the last 19 months have held, some of the gathered ‘wisdom’ since that fateful evening when, after a Nandos and the season finale of Orange Is The New Black, Extremely-Tiny-And-Not-Quite-Ready-Yet-Alien decided to join us, earthside.
I wish I’d known, then, in the way I am quite sure of now, that it is perfectly possible to have a flourishing career whilst nurturing a wriggling, demanding Alien. I’ve given papers on zero sleep. I’ve delivered lectures where I had milk, or worse – it’s better never to ask – artistically besmirched across my shoulders. I have fed, clothed and loved a child and simultaneously completed a hundred thousand word thesis.
I’m not trying to make myself out to be some sort of maternal and academic hero, here. I am perpetually only ever two steps away from dropping all of my chaotically spinning plates … but its most often been a fun juggling act.
I also wish I’d known that there will never be a perfect time to undertake an adventure like this. The demands of my job role suggest that the particulars of procreation should occur within a defined calendar window: to make sure birth occurs after the exam and resit windows, before module preparation begins: ideally somewhere between the waning of May and the sunset of July. This time I am ditching these (felt, or otherwise) expectations and throwing caution to the wind. What will be, will be.
I kind-of wish I’d known — in those terrifying early days — that confidence, ability, and sheer-blagging-it-skills appear from nowhere, unbidden, that first year. I was always concerned I would be a terrible mother, but Delightful Alien seems to be alive and flourishing. He’s certainly heavier. Today he learned how to say “bum” and “this one”: exploits which should provide hours of future fun.
Importantly, though, he isn’t doing well because I am good or bad, worthy or unworthy – because I have my shit together, or not – but because he is surrounded by a village of people who love us and help me and don’t mind when he uses their coasters as frisbees and pulls their guide dog’s tail. This makes me think about lots of things I wish I’d known round about the Autumn of 2015:
I wish I’d known that it was ok to ask for help.
I wish I’d known that my body takes to pregnancy like Trump takes to presidency – like a stumbling, dizzy buffoon confused by its own processes, only ever a couple of steps in front of catastrophe.
I wish I’d known — relatedly — that you can survive for approximately three months on butterscotch Angel Delight, alone. I don’t advocate this approach to pregnancy.
I wish I’d known that formula is not the enemy.
I wish I’d known the sleeping when they sleep is excellent advice. (Moreover I wish I currently followed this advice, rather than deciding to spend the hour long Alien naps gazing at my phone).
I wish I’d known about Anbesol for teething.
I wish I’d known that seeing a therapist is not self-indulgent.
I wish I’d known that babies can pee vertically, but that if they do, and it goes on the light switch, it is generally safe to wipe it off without getting electrocuted.
I wish I’d known that it is not necessary to BUY ALL THE THINGS.
I wish I’d known about nipple shields, though.
I wish I’d known that you can say no to health visitors, especially when they give you snidey-side-eye glances while telling you CMPA doesn’t exist.
I wish I’d known that M&S does have a lift, but it’s hidden at the back of the Food Hall.
I wish I’d known that it all works out in the end, and I that I am probably not psychologically damaging this infant in a way that will require years of expensive therapy … well, perhaps just a few sessions.
(The real irony here is that I’m writing this at 1am, while the Sleep-Stealing Alien is snoozing peacefully by my side).
Mostly, I wish I’d have known that amongst all the chaos and uncertainty, amidst difficult choices about work and life, money and sanity, it all works out, it all finds a level. Neither the Sleep-Stealing one, nor my work commitments demand super-human ability. We are all just muddling through. I didn’t know it before, but I think I am learning to be fine with this. Who knows what will happen next, what crazy decisions I will embark upon (it’s all to play for: two Tiny Aliens, a foreign country, Post-Doc opportunities, etc. Challenge Accepted.)
