So yesterday was #1's tenth birthday. Along with marveling at my own idiocy at planning a seven hour party that included taking nine of her friends to the town pool and having cake there, taking them out for pizza and then to see the new Katy Perry movie, I was also awed by the fact that I have now been a mother for a decade. So much has changed in that time, I barely remember the terrified, tentative, sleep-deprived girl I used to be. There is so much I wish I knew then that I know now. I wish I had a time machine to go tell her. Instead, I wrote her a letter.
Dear 2002 Postpartum Mary,
Since I am writing you this letter, you can see you do actually survive motherhood. At least the first ten years. The baby you are holding has not yet become a teenager, but my hopes are high I won't have to kill her then. I wanted to send you some words of wisdom from the future to put your mind at ease during these scary, early days, when you are wondering how the hell you are going to keep this kid alive, let alone raise her right.
To begin, it will not always feel like the baby has a mouth full of razor blades, and you will actually get a handle on this nursing thing. There will be an "incident' with a rental pump next week, but you will not be permanently injured. And, no, your boobs will not always be this big. They will, however, become sadly deflated looking. Sorry for the spoiler. Yes, you will eventually stop wearing maternity pants, but, no your stomach will never look the same.
The baby will get better looking. That nose situation is from her being pressed against your pubic bone and she actually has H's little nose. Whew, right? That weird baby acne resolves itself as well. She will also sleep through the night - eventually. I promise. You will even be able to, and want to have sex again once this happens. Hard to imagine when you have about a thousand stitches in your privates now, huh?
It is possible to be more tired than you are now. In fact, your situation right now isn't so bad sleep-wise. When the baby sleeps you sleep. Trust me, this will not always be the case. I bet you're thinking I've got it made in the shade now, with her going to school the whole day. Ha! These hours you imagine using for the gym and to catch up on the Today Show will now be used to clean, go grocery shopping, and run errands like buying poster board for her Colonial America project and nude tights for her dance recital. You will also make good on that promise to yourself to be around. You will volunteer in the school library and to hand out ice pops on Field Day. You will join the PTA and be girl scout leader. You will become a cliched stay-at-home mom and you will love the shit out of it. For reals. Oh, and say goodbye to all that TV you're watching now. You have about two years before the day you see her clapping along with you when Charlotte finally gets pregnant on Sex and the City and realize you need to make some changes.
It gets harder. OK, I know I should be comforting you, but I also need to be realistic. Sure, you have a person waking you every two hours to eat from your body, and you are changing shitty diapers (you ain't seen nothin' until she starts solids, meats in particular), but you are also going to have to help create an actual person. You will have to teach her how to be a kind and considerate friend without being taken advantage of. How to make mistakes with grace and learn from them. You will have to teach her how to survive in the real world when she is away from you, how to stay away from strangers, perverts, and to look both ways when crossing the street. You will have to help her with times tables, how to write a cohesive paragraph and memorizing the fifty states. You will stay up at night, not nursing, but wondering if you are doing enough and doing it all right.
It also gets so much better than you can imagine. Once she is walking and not sleeping half the day you can take her to the Museum of Natural History, to see them blow up the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade balloons, to the Crayola Factory, and to the beach (and on one unexpectedly inappropriate trip to see the Alexander McQueen exhibit at The Met). You will introduce her to your favorite books and movies (Little House will not be the huge hit you anticipated it being, Harry Potter will be). You will get to experience the best bits of childhood through her, minus the annoying growing up part. You will love hanging out with this little person you are holding now. You will not only love her, you will like her.
I know it's hard now, I know you can barely imagine what tomorrow will bring, never mind the next ten years. But you can do this, you will do this, even though it seems an insurmountable task.
Oh, and you'll do it two more times within the next five years. No, I'm not lying.
Good luck!
Future Mary
PS - You also get rid of those atrocious blonde highlights.
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