Bella is almost two months old. Time has flown by, as it typically tends to do when you reach a certain age. The biggest lesson I have learned in these past couple of months is that things are never what they seem. Ever. I’ve learned that it really is best to have zero expectations because that’s the only sure fire way to fend off being sorely disappointed.
Expectations of:
…myself
…other people
…how “things will go”
…how “things should go”
…just every. freaking. thing.
Basically, everything I expected to go one way has gone that exact and total opposite way.
Everything.
…and that’s kind of overwhelming, right?
My inner planner absolutely loves lists. Let’s make a list of expectations I’ve had that have completely went to hell, shall we?
Expectation: I would breastfeed.
Reality: Nope. Formula feeding, all the way. I’ve found that I am 110% okay with this.
Expectation: I would get the “golden hour” of bonding after birth.
Reality: My body had other plans.
Expectation: I would love working from home. The best of both worlds, right?
Reality: Working from home sucks. It’s lonely. I like people. I like talking, interacting, socializing. None of that happens.
Expectation: I would be a stay-at-home or a work-at-home Mom and need little to no help.
Reality: Holy hell do I need help. Even if I was a stay-at-home Mom and didn’t “work” a job at home or otherwise…I think I’d still want/need occasional help. This is harder than I ever thought it would be.
Expectation: I would hire a nanny and be able to continue working from home/have some “freedom” albeit, hired help. Hey…freedom might come at a price, right?
Reality: Nope. Every single possibility has fallen through and it’s looking more like I’m just going to be a plain ol’ stay at home mom because ain’t nobody getting shit done for clients with a baby needing you every second. I can barely take a shower and keep basic hygiene let alone crank out amazingness for my clients. Maybe someday.
I know “it gets easier”.
I know I’m supposed to “cherish this time because they don’t stay little forever”.
I know. I know. Saying those things doesn’t help someone with PPD. #justsaying
Instead say, “Yeah, I know, right? It fucking sucks sometimes.” That helps. Someone who gets it and understands that being in the trenches of parenthood sucks sometimes. No need to sugarcoat it.
I literally was covered in poop, spit up, boogers and I think she sneezed directly into my mouth yesterday. If you act like you enjoy that…maybe you’re more messed up than I am.
Here is where the whole “guilt” fueled depression likes to creep it’s ugly head up at me:
“Stephanie, you should be thankful….
…..Many women dream of being in your shoes. To financially be able to choose whether you stay at home, work from home (as little or as much as I choose), or go back to work out in the workforce.”
“Stephanie, you should be thankful…..
….Many women would kill to have a husband who supports whatever choice you choose to make.”
“Stephanie, you should be thankful….
….Many women would love to have a precious, healthy two month old right now. Some women have had the heart ache of not being able to conceive or carry a child. Some women have suffered incomprehensible loss, loss that you couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain of. So, you should be thankful.”
“Stephanie, you should be thankful….
….Many women wish they had a husband that actually helped out with their children. You’re lucky that Joey helps so much. Lots of men don’t do that. You’re so lucky he is so hands on and he lets you have a break.”
(*Wait a second, isn’t that ^ just called being a parent? He’s not helping ME, he’s parenting his child. He’s being a Daddy. I’m not helping him by feeding Bella and changing her, am I? No. I’m being a parent. A mother to my child. How utterly ridiculous would it be if someone went up to Joey and said, “Gee Joey, you’re awful lucky that Stephanie helps you so much with Bella.” My inner feminist absolutely RAGES when people say how lucky I am that Joey helps. I’m not lucky. *HE’s lucky he parents his daughter or else I’d have a swift kick in the nuts for him. /endrant)
He’s totally reading this. Love you, honey. 😉
Anyway.
If you’ve stuck around long enough to read this sentence, know that the point of this blog is to have a place I can bitch about stuff and in general be dramatic/emo. I’ll also give sprinkles of information here and there if you squint hard enough. If you likey, keep reading. If you no likey, stop reading. I’ve been “hinted to” that I probably shouldn’t write the way I do (too raw, perhaps..?) because people might get the “wrong idea” to which I replied, “If I gave a damn what people thought about my blog, that might matter to me.” — Seriously. Life’s too short to give a rat’s ass about people who are judging you.
Until next time.
themindofsteph 