I once bought a puppy for Harley (my Chihuahua) as a means
of company. That was over ten years ago and I have obviously changed my stance
on buying dogs from pet stores and puppy mills. My Chihuahua is also from a pet
store but I like to think that even so, I technically rescued him from a life
without a king size bed, trips to the beach, shiatsu massages and other
excessive means of spoiling. So I bring this “new” puppy home to meet Harley
and it just wasn’t the right fit. I didn’t like what “he” did to our family of
two. So I did the unthinkable and returned this sweet, innocent puppy to the
pet store.
Three short weeks ago, I gave birth to a baby boy (human).
There I am, in the clam position after forty-five minutes of pushing, with no
drugs I might add (third world problems) and after hours of hot, steamy
contractions, only to be rewarded with a bundle of baby, guts and goo on my
chest. The doctor might as well have put that returned pet store puppy on my
chest and said, “Okay, it’s all yours, enjoy.”
Of course, after he was cleaned up, dressed in human attire
and in my husbands’ arms I loved him right away.
When you find out you are pregnant, it’s all daisies and
pixie dust. Then you get a bit more pregnant and you start to think thoughts
like:
Shit, this thing has to come out of my body, someway,
somehow. Is it going to hurt? Nah, people do it all the time, it will be fine.
I am the apple of my husband’s eye, am I willing for some
being to take a bite out of that apple?
I should have done this when I was younger. I can get used
to little sleep, I was twenty-one once.
Will I really hate my husband like all my friends warned I
would?
So far, this is what I have found.
Yes, it hurts! It hurts a lot. Especially when no one has
accurately described the pain of a contraction. No, it is not like a bad period
pain. It is more like the Devil himself blowing up a fire balloon in your
abdomen and back at the same time for two straight minutes until you literally
have no words, no breath, no understanding of reality. Then the Devil allows
the balloon to deflate for thirty seconds and repeats for a number of hours.
You pray for death to come first, totally ignoring the feelings of any loved
ones you may leave behind.
The love. The love is a different kind of love. It’s worth
sharing. It’s more of a sense of responsibility and as for the way your husband
loves you, in my opinion, it only increases. He came, he saw, but I conquered.
It is just like they say. After he sees what you go through, he really can’t
ever be mad at you again in life, ever. He even let me name the baby, which we
previously agreed would be his perk.
If I had done this when I was younger, I would likely have
resented my husband and resented the baby. I applaud those who were and are
able to birth a child before age thirty and then look after him/her. Of course
it’s personal for everyone. For me, waiting until after thirty and
accomplishing my life goals first only put me in a better place to care for
another life. I am lucky to have what everyone is calling a “good” baby. Even
so, a newborn baby needs to eat… all the time. When they wake up they need
their diaper changed and need to be fed. After they are fed they need to burp.
Until they burp, they cry. After the burp then need to sleep. Sometimes they
cry again, and again. This process takes an hour (minimum), which means, you
have about another one to two hours before this cycle repeats, and repeats and
repeats. So as “good” as your baby may be, you will lose sleep. You will also
cry to Adele’s “Hello” for no apparent reason, out of nowhere.
I have not hated my husband once since our baby was born. I
need him. It takes a team to raise a baby. I have the best partner. Hopefully I
didn’t just jinx it.
On a positive note, I no longer feel the guilt of over-caffeinating
a tiny being. I stuck to my 150mg max of caffeine a day during pregnancy. I am
thankful I had the time to write this blog only getting up three times to push
my baby’s swing that I can’t be bothered to buy batteries for…
…And have a latte.
