I always wanted a baby. When my son was born, I had no idea what else would arrive all wrapped up in that goo-smeared swaddling blanket. Apparently I didn’t just have a little boy, a lot of fluid, and a placenta in there; I also had lofty ambitions to do everything better than anyone else ever has for their baby, ever, not to mention...
...The ability to bounce-shhhhh a kid to sleep while teetering on the brink of mental collapse.
...Expectations that others would know what I needed, even when I didn’t.
...A seriousness that would dissolve my sense of humor for at least three full months.
...Boobs that became the size of my head, yet strained to feed a baby properly.
...A need to photograph my child’s every other blink.
...A deep love for my husband for giving me this gift. A deep hate for my husband for not doing everything exactly as I wanted it to be done the first time, every time.
...An appreciation for Boppys that bordered on indecent.
Every single thing about me — my life, my marriage, every relationship I had, whether with my mom or my doorman — changed in an instant. My life was no longer mine. It was ours.
Dealing with this concept is a bit much when you are simultaneously dealing with episiotomy stitch pain and trying to keep a tiny new human alive. I wish there had been a guide tucked somewhere up in there, too, to help with all this. It was just so much. So much all at once. Saying it was overwhelming is like saying “Hey, air is pretty cool to have around.”
I plugged along, I furrowed my brow, my husband tolerated my crazy, our kid gained weight and after a few months I actually slept more than 45 minutes in a row.
Then one day, as I was changing him in the bedroom, my beautiful baby boy smiled at me...and pooped in a spray that arced up to the ceiling, painting it a lovely shade of breastfed.
And I laughed!
I laughed so hard I cried. I cried and I cried and I Googled 'how to wash poop off a white ceiling,' and I told my husband all about it. When I was done, my shoulders settled, and I realized that as hard as it all was, I had created someone who could poop on the ceiling. What could possibly be more awesome than that? I must have been doing something right if my baby could do circus tricks already. So I decided to relax, to go a little easier on myself.
Which made all the challenges of being a new mom a little bit easier.
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, POPSUGAR.