Letter to Pregnant Me

In the lead up to Harry's first birthday next week, I made up a book of "Letters to Harry". Essentially it's a book of letters from friends and family for him to one day read himself. The process of writing a letter to future grown up Harry got me thinking about what I would write if I could write a letter to myself before I had a baby.

We also had some family stay over on the weekend and they brought along their four month old first born. Being around the nervous and excited busy air of first time parents of a newborn reminded me so much of how we must have been only less than a year ago. 

Reflecting on the first year of parenting and the flashback to the newborn bubble we must have once been in got me thinking... I wish I could just go back in time to the very last time I was in a world without a baby, take myself aside before we drove to the hospital that day and tell myself a few things.

Here's what I would say:

------------

Date: just before you pop i.e. a year ago from today

Dear Pregnant Me,

Hi. I am you from the future. I am writing you this letter to save you a lot of grief and angst. These are things that you must know, and will know. Hindsight is a lot more useful as foresight, so stop being hard headed like you usually are, put your preconceptions down and just listen for a minute. No, really...LISTEN.

EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE ALRIGHT. Just think about that for a minute. And remember it. For every time you think "I have no idea", or "wtf is happening?", or "this is the worst" - just remember that you will come through it and it will pass. One day this big parenting conundrum that has you stumped right now will be long gone but what you have is a person you have known since it's creation and seems to become more wonderful everyday. That is what sticks, not the seemingly insurmountable pain of labour, or the infinitely long sleepless nights or the horror of your baby's first fever... just remember that it will pass.

your new parenting mantra

YOU WILL BE MORE TIRED THAN YOU HAVE EVER IMAGINED. Everyone "knows" this going into parenthood. All the knowing smiles when people realise you are pregnant "haha get your sleep now while you can" they all said. Yes I know, I am perfectly aware that parenting is difficult, I once said. No. You do not know what tired is. When you think you are the most tired a person could possibly be, expect something unexpected to happen which will mean you have to dig deeper than ever to find that extra dog to add to your pack... and don't worry, you will always have it. Everytime. And then you will wish that you were only as tired as you were last week when that once massive problem now seems so much smaller than the problem that superseded it.

YOU HAVE NO IDEA BUT YOU HAVE INSTINCT. Just accept that you don't know what you are doing and be cool with that. It's okay that you don't know. That stack of books, research and articles you have for every single foreseeable issue... put them down and place them in box, bury that box in a bonfire and burn it. Those books will make you feel more inadequate, it does not have the answers you are looking for because the authors of those books have never met your baby. Your baby is unique. He is not ordinary. He does not respond to what most babies apparently respond to. You have to give yourselves time to learn each other. It will be rough, it will take months but trust your instincts. It is stronger than you think. Those books and guides are merely that, but be aware that they can cloud your gut feel for your baby. Forget the books and stop bloody googling everything. For example, "6 week old baby crying now for two hours don't know what he wants" is not a productive search term.

the only book that accurately depicts the nature of baby sleep

BABIES ARE HARDY. Don't live in a clean freak safety conscious bubble. Your baby is resilient and strong. Don't stress about every little thing. It doesn't matter if he misses a nap every now and then. It is not the end of the world. I still remember crying because he didn't nap. Those are wasted tears. It doesn't matter if you forgot to change his nappy, these days he's lucky to get changed for anything other than a number 2. It doesn't matter if you don't sterilise every little thing, one day he will mouth the toilet when you turn around for two seconds. It doesn't matter if you have to change the routine every now and then. It's not going to make a big difference in the long run. The routine will not stop him from crying. If he wants to cry he will whether or not you gave him all his naps that day. He will be right.

not a cloth nappy in sight

BEING A MUM IS NOT AN OPPORTUNITY FOR FASHION. Stop googling "best swaddle/sling/clothnappy". That shit does NOT matter. You will not be using this expensive cloth nappies a year from now. Babies in the desert survive with nothing but basic food, shelter and LOVE. Stop expending so much energy preparing for the physical needs of the baby when he arrives and instead invest in some inside mind relaxation and calm. That stuff will take you a far longer way than having the latest baby gimmicks on hand when the baby arrives.

TREAT YOUR BABY LIKE IT'S YOUR SECOND. This way you will enjoy life with a baby. You will get so caught up in your baby it is almost as though you live in a bubble. Don't forget that your baby has entered your world and not the other way around. Don't get me wrong, the baby will become the most precious thing in your life but being completely absorbed to the point of obliviousness to the world will only mean you forget to see the big picture and focus on things like number of naps and feeds instead of numbers of funny things he did that day.

DON'T PUREE BABY FOOD. He'll be ready to eat a softer, mashed up version of your food when he's good and ready. There were days when I cooked the most beautiful baby purees which the baby wouldn't eat, whereas on the same day I ate almost nothing myself. That is NOT good parenting.

baby don't care if you took five hours to make this. If hedonwannaeat, hedonwannaeat.

LET YOUR BABY CRY. I still remember jumping at every slight noise and bolting from across the house to attend to the baby before he's even had a chance to get the cry out. It's okay to let him cry. Convert that pain in your heart every time you hear baby cry to a mild bemusement. You shouldn't think "oh no something is wrong" straight away. Think instead "aww how cute, look at him trying to say something". I'm not saying leave him to cry every time , I am saying eliminate the fear in your heart every time you hear him cry. Babies cry. That's what they do. A LOT. Don't panic. And sometimes there is nothing wrong, you've done everything and they will still cry. He will scream in your ear so hard and so long because he doesn't know what else to do. Don't cry with him. Just be patient and remember everything I said above.

Last but not least - 

ENJOY! It is hard having a baby but I promise it gets better. He starts to hit all the developmental milestones on his way to becoming a little man. With each new skill he becomes more and more fun. More and more relatable. He is lovely, ever increasingly perfect. Somehow the challenges become bigger but the boy becomes easier to enjoy.

one smile is all worth it

I know you will now scrunch up this letter and think, meh what do you know. I suppose you just have to live it to get it. And yes, I do sound a lot like my parents these days. There's nothing you can do to change that I'm afraid. That much is inevitable.

Love,

a much cooler and wiser Me a year from when you read this

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Note, photo of other babies above is from the movie Babies. Incidentally an excellent film for all new mothers and mothers-to-be to watch.

I love therefore I am

My whinges aside, I have to say that my life is pretty simple right now.

Is this what they call being happy*?

Despite all the challenges, this year of being at home with the bub will surely be a golden time I will one day look back on with such happiness and longing. Everyday is as simple as "what are we having for dinner tonight?". The highlight of everyday is what new funny thing the baby did today.

Harry is a week away from turning one and I have to say I love this age so much. My heart aches just thinking that this age of cheeky innocence will one day draw to a close. Right now mummy, daddy and our house is his entire world and he is pretty happy with that. I am pretty happy with that.

I love ... afternoon sun backyard yoga with daddy and baby

I love ... daddy's backyard harvest

I love ... this cheeky bugger who has turned my whole world upside down in the most marvellous way possible

 I love the home we have. I love my little family. My heart is buttery soft with happy :)

* Harry started sleeping through this week... just a happy side note, I am sure it is just a coincidence that I am doing a happy post!

What Harry thinks about food

How can this be possible? It seems statistically improbable. Impossible even.

My love for food is so great, I thought, that there would be no permutation possible of my genetic make up ever hating food. I held the dominant food gorging loving gene. I dream about food. I would move cities for good food. Food is more than just physical survival for me, good food is integral to the survival of the soul.

My son thinks of food in two ways.

How do I describe this... Let's see. How about I let my son's face do all the talking. Here's emotion number one:

What Harry thinks about food

The first feeling is encapsulated by the look above which I would say is somewhere between indifference and hatred (if that were possible). Just complete and utter disinterest. This manifests in his permanent turning away from his tray, from me, from anything to do with the meal taking place before him. I spend a good part of his highchair time staring at the back of his head. No matter which way I face him, his impressive neck rotation ensures that I have the least access to his frontal face. He basically acts like an arrogant little emperor, sitting there on his highchair throne impervious to all my food prep efforts, bored and angry at all this food as though eating is for such commoners. Like come on good woman, I have so much better shit to do than eat food all day!

The second reaction he has to food which drives me equally nuts is this:

Harry's "laugh it off" measures against being fed

From his royal majesty he transforms into the ultimate jester. He basically acts like meals are a big joke and that food are his props for the Harry Mealtime Show. This mood results in a lot of food throwing, yelling, tantrums and random laughing while he smashes the nearest plate/cup/knife repeatedly banging it into his face/table or sailing it off to the newspapered floor. My favourite thing to see is him face planting into his food, arms out and literally doing food angels on his high chair tray while gurgling to himself. He can do this for the entire meal and I gotta say I'm kind of proud of his artistic flair for protesting.

He started eating last week. Proper food. He was chewing chicken, like actual chicken pieces and hallelujah swallowing it. He was having modest full meals, meat, rice and veg and all without too many tears. I was so happy, I thought we were on the mend.

But alas, it wasn't meant to be. Struck down with some unknown virus since last week, his body weakened and reset our progress. This week it's back to the little emperor/joker on his high chair again, struggling to swallow the slightest morsel of food. This makes it almost more frustrating because I know he has the ability to eat. He just chooses not to.

Anyway, he may not have inherited his poor attitude toward food from me but I suppose I cannot blame him for his stalwart stubbornness. He's certainly a headstrong, strong-willed little boy and one day I will be proud that he can stand his ground to anyone. In the meantime I will simply have to be happy with mopping up all the food after him.

someone save me

Harry Does St Patrick's Day

Had a mad dash day trying to get into the St Patrick's Day spirit by doing a "Harry Does" photo shoot today.

Of course it helped that I already spent the last 18 months of my life growing my own little leprechaun so that bit was sorted.

To achieve this very green set of photos, I just had to squeeze in these little tasks into the day:

1. Make a cardboard four-leaf clover (Check! But my hand cramped from scissoring!)

2. Find some gold coins (Check! Apparently chocolate coins are only ever stocked at christmas time?)







3. Sew a rainbow bunting from random material stash at home (Check! But so not worth it because it didn't even look good in the photos!)














 4. Find a green outfit for the boy (Check! Although I just made do with his stash at home. His jumper is a little big as its an 18-24month size but nothing that rolling up arm sleeve a few times couldn't fix.

If anyone is curious Harry is wearing a H+M sweater from one of his godparents, Bonds stretch pants and Marks & Spencer socks from us when we went on a stupid internet shopping spree, and a hat his grandparents got him from a holiday to Bangkok. A green mishmash of thrifty practicality really.

My friend asked me on the phone this morning about what I had planned today. When I told him it would be this cheesy photoshoot he told me I should do something more constructive with all this time and learn a language instead. Bah! Whatever, this sort of nonsense is the best part of having a kid! You get your very own model.. whether they like it or not!

Speaking of which, he did not really enjoy the photoshoot today. Poor sod has yet another tooth coming in on the top row and was super super clingy the entire day. Most of the other shots were either of him whinging, crying or crawling towards me begging to be picked up. I have about a hundred shots that look kind of like this:

What happens when teething and modelling collide

There were quite a few passersby in the park who did look a bit concerned that I was child labouring my child a bit too harshly. They were probably also concerned when, finding myself without an assistant today (hubby was busy) I had to walk around the park in search of good light/tree/grass whilst carrying this parcel around with me. Yes, that is my child in a box with a big piece of wood at his eye level.



Good times! One day when he's all grown up I am going to terribly miss these days when he has to do exactly where I place him.

I'm not really sure what I am trying to achieve by doing these photos. I just know that at least for me, they are a lot of fun. Meanwhile...

Top ten - Signs I'm losing it

I have not handled this week's parenting and life challenges with much grace. They say a true test of one's character is how one handles adversity. I am doing very shit thank you. Here's how I know that:

1. I have blogged more than I've ever blogged averaging 1-2 posts per day. I even have a backlog of blog entry drafts waiting to be cleaned up so that my usual mind diarrhea looks as presentable as diarrhea can be.

2. I am super snappy at everyone. I've had more irrational snaps at people than there are actual snaps on those ridiculous late 90s Adidas snap pants (also irrational and just as hideous).

3. I have snarled a lot. Usually most at people closest to me. For example, dinner with my parents are usually peppered with the usual insidious digs at me that I have to ignore or laugh off but this time I just gave it back to them with full top spin. At one stage I even recall snarling, "If you think I'm doing such a shit job why don't you just call DOCS and have him taken away because clearly you think I'm failing as a parent." There may have been several full blown snarls in the same vein following this. Did I mention we were in a moderately packed restaurant?

4. My husband and I have fought a lot. More than we've ever fought. Whole sections of the day just disappear into gloomy steely silences as we both stand our ground about something that ultimately makes no difference.

5. My baby has started behaving like he actually hates me. I do all the unpleasant things he hates like feed him solids three times a day, make him sleep, stop playtime, discipline him about not climbing INTO the dishwasher, force squirt his daily vitamin into his mouth...Either that or I've become such a sourpuss and he knows it too. All the ring a ding ding games I play with him and laughs I get from him throughout the day must just vanish in his memory in light of all the unpleasantness I enforce upon him. He pushes me and turns away from me a lot and prefers his dad all the time.

6. I am quick to assume everyone is criticizing me as a parent. So much that I've actually imagined jabs at me by friends making passing innocent comments. Comments which meant nothing I obsessed about in midnight hours turning them this way and that to see just what did they really mean by that.

7. I look like a fuzzy chicken zombie.

8. I complain about lack of sleep but then proceed to squander the opportunities for sleep instead laying there all wired up over analyzing everything (and did I mention blogging?).

A true photo of my baby during an
early morning waking session

9. I have actually out loud called my baby a jerk to his face. I had just spent half an hour calming and soothing him to stop squirming, finding the optimum sleep inducing head position. I was doing well remaining mother zen calm while he kicked me in my full need to pee bladder, scratched my face and neck repeatedly, and momentarily biting me in random places. It was like calming a wild ferret. Finally he was drowsy and asleep in my arms. He even made his tongue clicking I want to sleep signal. But alas everytime I sat down and got into a comfortable position he would bolt his eyes wide open and I'd have to do it all again. Putting him down and letting him cry made him wide awake and crawling like I made my ferret son into a ball toy.

I did this for two hours. It's like he was tricking me into performing the most ridiculous uncomfortable poses luring me with sleepy eyes but he never had any intention of sleeping at all.  I looked at his bug open eyes and called him a jerk.

10. I've done that more than once.

So there it is. I am undone. My mother's love is overcooked.
I have become a crazy, whiny, argumentative, defensive, mean crazy mofo and I am so ashamed I am not coping better.

But perhaps I exaggerate. Last night I was lying in bed awaiting the next night call and I was busy hoping this week was the worst, the bottom, the point before everything gets better. Then I realized the depth of my dedication to my child can go a lot deeper.

I thought about all the scenarios that would be worse than ours. I tried as much as I could to see around the myopic obsessiveness exhausted parents are afflicted with and tried to gain perspective. He's not dying. He's not sick. He doesn't have  hole in his heart or diseases like some babies do.

Then I started going through a list of horrible things that could befall him in the future. What if he does get seriously sick? Well good job perspective... That didn't help at all.

In a way it helped in this respect: I realized whatever situation life throws at us I will be there. With all my personal failings and imperfections, I will always put everything I have on the table for this little guy and my family.

I guess like all things in life, all you can give is the best you got. I don't want to give my family my struggle finish best. I don't want to drag and sob my way to get through. I have failed. But not as a parent. I have only failed in not digging out my best qualities and using those to live this experience positively. The challenge is not my baby. The challenge is living life with my baby while being the best person I can be.

This life is hard, I will give myself that. However I will not let myself worry to the point that I ruin all the good stuff that can come of it.