Picnic By The Motorway

I HAVE A BABY.

 

You would think that after nearly three weeks of owning a new human that I might’ve gotten used to the idea that I’m now a mum. Nah uh, no way, I’m still trying to get my head around the idea that this very tiny, very cute, very demanding little cub is my baby.

 

It’s taken a while to find the time to write because looking after a baby is hard work. I knew it would be – goodness knows enough people warned me – but knowing something will be hard doesn’t actually make it any easier.

 

Same goes with labour by the way, I knew it would be painful, but realism didn’t make an ounce of difference in that delivery suite when those contractions kicked in one after another after another. Epidural? Ah yes please.

 

I am in awe of women who have delivered babies without pain relief, if you are amongst their number then lady, you are my hero. I bow at your feet. In my case it was a good thing I was such a wuss and opted for an epidural, because when they realised my little boy was in major distress and had to be delivered in the next twenty minutes, the fact I had already had an epidural meant they could just top it up for the emergency caesarean. If I hadn’t already been a bit numb they wouldn’t have had time and that would’ve led to a general anaesthic which would’ve sucked for me, baby and Joel. This is how I make myself feel better about not being all Mother Earth and pain-relief-free on it. Turns out I couldn’t Just Say No to drugs in the end, and as a result both Joel and I got to see our baby as soon as he was born – if I’d been under general, that wouldn’t have happened.

 

There’s a lot of guilt associated with this having a baby lark. I went into birth with an open mind, because I didn’t want to get my heart set on a ‘birth plan’ only for that plan to be shattered, leaving me all forlorn that my precious little bundle didn’t arrive exactly the way that I had in mind. Despite that, I really didn’t think I’d end up having a caesarean, and even though it was our only option at the time I still feel a little disappointed that I wasn’t able to deliver Baby Vic the ‘traditional’ way. I still can’t bring myself to say I “gave birth” because I don’t feel that I did. I’m sure the baby doesn’t give a hoot that he came out through the sunroof rather than, well, you know, so it’s just my own insecurities at play. Damn hormones.

 

Perhaps we’ll talk about other guilt-laden controversial topics like dummies, bottles and wet wipes another day because I figure you’re probably more keen to see cute photos of the baby – and I don’t blame you. I mean, aside from the fact I’m totally biased, I really do think that Joel and I managed to produce one heck of an adorable kid…