Baptism By Vomit

Motherhood is not always a pretty state. Yesterday, munchkin spit up while I was holding her, and it went right into my mouth. Half-digested curds of my breast milk tasted much like I thought they would.

I am a first-time mother. I have no idea what I'm doing most of the time. I feel disgusting about 80% of my day, and I'm struggling with some mild post-partum depression. Right now, I'm watching Munchkin sleep on the baby monitor and feeling very happy at the state of things. At 11am this morning, I was crying at her crying at me.

When I first found out I was pregnant, I was so excited. Some of my friends had babies, and I had baby sat when I was a teenager. This would just be the next big thing in my life. I had no idea just how hard it would be.

Newborns are supposed to sleep away 90% of their day. Munchkin barely slept as soon as we took her home from the hospital. I still remember that first 48-hour period before we were discharged. She was quiet, calm, adorable. I kept just staring at her. She was perfect. I loved her. I felt good.

"How babies are in the hospital is a good indicator of how their mood will be once you leave," a nurse told me. She was wrong. So, so wrong.

Munchkin has had colic. I have had mood swings. My husband has had extra projects at work and extended hours. Things were chaos (and still are). As I got a handle on my moods, and got the swing of soothing munchkin, life has gotten sweeter. In the past few weeks I keep repeating the same thing over and over again. "I had no idea it would be like this." I didn't. I mean, I knew, logically, what it would be like. But I didn't really know, emotionally, physically, mentally.

There are no amount of classes you can take, books you can read, research you can do, to adequately prepare for this. I don't think it even matters if it's your first of fourth kid. Every child is different, even from the first days after birth. Every baby has different needs, a different personality. I knew when Munchkin tore her own hair out after her first real bath (real story) that she was going to be a dramatic and intense little girl. That wasn't in any baby books. I didn't see that sort of behavior in any documentaries. I wasn't prepared, but I handled it. I scooped her up in my arms when her little fingers wouldn't release their grasp. I held her and sang until her hand relaxed. I kissed her little chubby cheeks until she blinked and calmed. I coped with her screaming, her fussiness, her intensity.

I think that's what motherhood is about. I watch her, I learn, and I react. Motherhood (and parenthood in general) is a learn-as-you-go phenomena. It's baptism by vomit.