IT'S DIFFERENT WHEN THEY'RE YOURS, AND OTHER USELESS WISDOM FOR NEW PARENTS
If you've spent much time on this blog, you know that I resisted children with every fiber of my being. On one hand, I spent ten years believing that I could not have kids. On the other, I loathed the sound of babies crying in public places. Though I am a teacher, I had neither the desire nor the inclination to dedicate decades of my life to parenting.
One thing I learned in my twenties is that young parents are essentially evangelicals for the Church of Baby Making. Again and again, I found myself circled by parents who extolled their supposed wisdom about why they just knew I was going to be a great dad, and I was going to love being a parent.
If you've ever found yourself in the middle of such a conversation, I'm sure you'll agree that their arguments fell flat at my feet. Not one of their carefully-crafted entreaties changed my belief that kids were categorically, unequivocally not for me. And yet, they were right. Our blended family is the most wonderful accident I can imagine.
Because my mind must, it has lately nagged for answers to two questions:
What advice/wisdom did I most often receive?
Why didn't it mean a damn thing at the time?
1. It's different when they're yours.
If I had a penny...
This might be the most commonly used sentence among potential parents and new parents alike. Everyone from Aunt Betty to mama to the stranger in your book club will blazon with all the bravado they can muster that "It's fine if kids annoy you, now; it's different when they're yours."
Great. Thanks, but I don't even like to spend a dollar on those scratch-off tickets. I'm not about to gamble most of my income and the bulk of my adult life on the off chance that I'm going to like the slimy, mewling thing in the crib just because it shares my DNA. Frankly, it's a little narcissistic to suddenly love the thing you've spent your whole life hating on the basis that it's an extension of yourself.
That was my thinking before kids. Now, I understand that "it" is not different when "they" are yours. You are different. At least, most people are. Yes, a few don't change, and those few usually struggle to be good parents because they don't feel a connection to their children and/or they still just don't like kids. The vast majority of new parents, though, become the best versions of themselves. Empathy surges. As do tenacity and curiosity. Actually, every emotion maxes out on the scale and hovers there for the better part of your life. Grief. Fear. Joy. Bewilderment. Every one of those words is redefined on a daily basis when you have kids.
The problem is, most people forget to tell you that you will change, and the abstraction inherent in "it's different..." don't do anything for the person genuinely panicking about the positive pregnancy test. They don't need to hear about situations or hypothetical realities. They need to hear about all the ways that their entire worlds are going to tumble, curtsy, flip them off, and take a bow. And they will relish this chaos.
So, stop telling those hesitant parents-to-be about what it will be like, and start telling them how they are entering an entirely new universe, which means they're not just going to meet banshees with button noses and shotgun lungs, but entirely new versions of themselves. It's scary. It's unfamiliar. And it's inevitable.
2. Everyone wants kids...eventually.
Hey! Want to feel invalidated? Tell a parent that you don't want kids. Better yet, tell a stranger that yes, you have a uterus, but you're not down with hosting tenants in your own body. Without fail, the vast majority will smile, bless your heart, and then tell you all the reasons you're a foolish young thing who just isn't ready, yet. Yet.
I swear, folks talk about having babies the way they talk about retirement funds and fiber supplements. Live long enough, and you'll want them.
For the record, it's okay if you don't want to have kids. Not everyone would make a great parent. Some people would make incredible parents and have zero desire to have kids. There's no shame in not having kids, and it doesn't mean that you're missing out on some inevitable moment when you're suddenly fulfilled as a human.
When it comes to kids, trust your instincts. If you feel like they're not for you, they probably aren't.
But some of you will have kids anyway. That's okay. You'll get through it.
How do I know? Because being a good parent requires only one thing: a dedication to doing your level best at every turn. The vast majority of people are, I believe, good people. And good people want to help those in need. Even if you don't like kids, you'll likely feel a compulsion to care for them. Not because it fulfills you or defines you, but because that's just what good people do.
3. Sleep when the baby sleeps.
You're damn right. That's solid advice. As soon as that kid's head hits the pillow, I'm out.
Wait--the little brat fell asleep on me. Now I can't move my arm and my leg is starting to go numb. I'll just stand up slow--crap. Now the baby is waking up. Shh. Shh.
Pop quiz: How many ways can the baby trap you during nap time?
Answer: At least one more than you think possible.
Good news. You will eventually figure out how to get the baby to sleep. Now go lie down. Quickly. But not before you start the laundry. You're out of towels. Also, you should probably eat something. Maybe the other half of that granola bar you started during the 3 am feeding. Oh, and the bills need to be paid. Everything done? Great. Nighty night, mama. Just kidding. Baby's awake.
You ever notice how having a child is a lot like the board game, Sorry!? Every time you manage to sneak out of that comfortable home base, something sends you back. And you know what's most awesome about this endless cycle? Every parent knows about it.
But what do they tell you? Sleep when the baby sleeps. They might as well tell you not to think about an elephant, then steal your pillow and your blanket and your mattress when you think about an elephant.
4. Make time for you. (Bonus: Make time for your partner.)
Excuse me for a minute. Busy laughing maniacally.
Okay. Now that that's out of the way, let me get serious.
On the surface, this is solid advice. You should absolutely make time for yourself. Hot baths, face masks, and good books are the key to sanity. After all, you can't be a great parent if you're stressed, right?
One problem: baby. Baby doesn't know you're stressed. Baby doesn't know you haven't showered in six days and ran out of dry shampoo. Baby doesn't know you have to be up in two hours to get ready for work. And to make things worse, baby doesn't care.
If you're lucky, you have a partner who actually values self-care and understands that gender-specific childcare duties are misogynistic tricks to get dads out of doing dirty work. If that's you, good news! This advice isn't entirely useless. However, you do still need to be realistic. For most new parents, things are in such disarray that you'll both be robbing Peter to pay Paul, so to speak.
In an ideal situation, you'll figure out how to prioritize your needs and make sure your partner prioritizes theirs. More often than not, though, what actually happens is that you have just enough time and energy to tend to basic hygiene.
And while we're at it, let's just acknowledge that neither you nor your partner will have much energy to care for each other. It's not for lack of trying or lack of desire. You'll both miss each other incredibly. But unless you live with (or near) very helpful family members, you simply won't have the time or the energy to be as attentive as you'd like.
I really appreciate the sentiment behind telling new parents not to put their relationship on the back burner, but there's a real risk that new parents will feel guilty about not doing more for each other. Try to focus more on the fact that you're in this together and less on the fact that your relationship isn't what it once was. Your relationship is changing. It has to. It needs to. And if you stay the course together, you will be better for it.
5. Don't go anywhere for the first six weeks.
I know that I've been on a bit of a political tangent as of late, so I'm going to resist the urge to pick apart how sexist and classist this piece of advice is. Suffice to say that most new parents don't have a choice about whether or not they'll take their newborn out of the house.
One reason that this advice is useless is because so few people have a strong argument for why new parents should keep their babies in the home for the first six weeks. Given the amount of unsolicited advice that new parents receive, most are wildly resistant to refrains like this one unless they're accompanied by sound reasoning.
Here's what you really need to know about leaving the house in the first six weeks:
Babies have weak immune systems, so you'll need to be extra diligent about making sure strangers don't touch your adorable ball of wonderful. It's a good idea to use a seat cover and keep hand sanitizer on tap.
Taking a newborn to the store is hard. You need to back bottles, formula or breast milk, diapers, baby wipes, a change of clothes for the enthusiastic pooper, the infant car seat, and a bulky stroller. Those are just the essentials. If you want to avoid crisis, you'll probably also bring a safety blanket, a favorite toy, and a carrier for when baby gets tired of the infant seat.
Many stores don't have changing tables in men's rooms. Again, this is totally misogynistic and it's utter BS, but it's our current reality. That means that dads who take the baby to the store alone will have a much harder time changing dirty diapers if the need arises. It's not impossible, but it will require creativity.
Everyone will accost you. What should be a twenty minute trip to grab groceries will devolve into a human slalom with lots of polite smiles and awkward attempts to move past strangers who insist on telling you stories about their own babies. Even though every new parent seems to detest this, the tradition persists.
If you keep those things in mind, you should be fine. Babies aren't eggs. They're not going to break. You should treat them with care, but also continue to live your life.
One piece of wisdom that's (hopefully) not useless:
You will fail some days. You will. It's impossible not to. But you will also learn. You will survive. You will thrive. And so will baby. Because here you are, on the internet, reading about being a parent. Anyone who takes time to look for answers is bound to find them. So take a breath. You're doing just fine.
