Doom
So there's approximately five weeks to go until we have this baby. Here are some of the things that some of our nearest and dearest have said in response to R's ongoing pregnancy ...
- "Look forward to never getting any sleep then."
- "I hope he pisses in your face."
- "So you'll be stuck at home for the rest of your days, a slave to a mewling infant who will howl for attention every minute, penniless, never having a moment to yourself, completely and utterly friendless, OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE YOU HAVE RUINED YOUR LIFE!!
... and these are just from my mother, who has gone on continuously about us having children since the day we got married, but only, apparently, out of revenge for the nightmare that was giving birth to and raising her only son. Every time we go over to visit, she delights in recounting horror stories from 32-and-a-half years ago.
We do have a few friends who have been positive and excited for us, however, and this means a lot. On top of which, we've been going to weekly antenatal classes. Up until tonight, these have been led by a midwife called Susan. Susan is very good at her job. She is approachable, friendly, honest about the child-bearing experience, but positive without sugar-coating anything. She tells it like it is, not sparing gory or unpleasant details, but you still come away feeling like this is something that you can deal with. Something that is worth doing.
Tonight, however, Susan couldn't make it. Susan's replacement had, I suspect, been talking to my mum immediately before the class. She was pregnant herself, with child number three apparently, though hearing her talk about the experience of becoming a new parent one wonders why she would go through that more than once. Like all the doom-mongers of the last eight months rolled into one, she told us about how we'll be tired, about how the baby's nappy will need changing constantly, about how there's a good chance of post-natal depression. On and on with barely a chink of light to be had while the rest of us in the class gave each other worried looks that said "is it too late to back out?"
I know that having a baby isn't easy. I know there will be late night crying, nappies that smell like they came from the arse of satan himself, trying times, sleepless nights and stress. Everyone in that room knew it. None of us in that class is a teenager knocked up by her ned boyfriend. We're all about the same age, we're all grown-ups, and we've all been living with the knowledge that we're going to have a baby for some months now. We don't need told how much it's going to suck because we're all worrying about it already. What we need is a reminder that there will be good things, that we haven't made a huge fucking mistake. I don't care if you believe it or not. Even if you think we're hastening the starvation of the world by selfishly reproducing, it's a bit late for us to change our minds now. If you see us in the next five weeks, do us a favour and don't go on about how shit it is to have kids. R might be getting big, but she can still cause severe testicular injury when provoked. link
2 Comments:
I like the guy who told us that summer babies are the best and that with all the extra light in the morning, it's not so bad to do the early feeds :) we like him. His balls are safe from my wrath.
By
Beccalog, at 11:35 PM
Ok, it's scary, but it's not that bad. When Tracy gave birth, I didn't feel a thing.
And baby's change. Even if you get one that cries a lot and refuses to sleep, he won't stay like that.
And the weird thing about nappies is that it's amazing how quickly you get used to doing it. Like it's only a bit of baby shit on your hand. Whatever.
Mind you, I don't have a teenager yet. That seems somehow far scarier.
By
izb, at 11:35 PM
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