With the force of a runaway freight train coming straight from hell, it hit me yesterday that I would soon be in charge of a newborn human. Up until that moment I’d been living in a euphoric bubble, a hazy, soft cocoon of excitement and denial. For some reason my brain had not fully penetrated the reality of the situation and only been surface diving on the topic.
The catalyst for my realisation was going shopping for a cot.
The last time I gave birth, John Howard was Prime Minister, the very first iPhone was announced, and Avril Lavigne was still a thing. If I’m being honest, I’m completely bewildered with the new equipment, lotions and rules that seem to have sprung up in the past twelve years. So as Scott and I were trying to pick a cot that was safe – one with non-toxic paint, correct spacing between the railings and without the appearance of a glamorous Scandinavian jail cell – it hit me: I don’t think I remember how to fucking do this. I turned to my husband, wildly gestured to the all of breast pumps, muslin wraps and baby carriers in front of us, and said: “Scotty, I don’t think I remember how to fucking do this.” Suddenly I wanted to seal the opening to my womb and have my son live in there until he was at least five.
Last night when I attempted to fall asleep, my mild panic converted itself into three hours worth of sticky thoughts and worries. It was a conscious stream of mental vomit. Here is a disturbing breakdown of the things that were going on in my head at 3am.
On the topic of a newborn:
They’re so tiny, I can’t remember how to do it, the newborn thing. Do you still wrap them like a human burrito or is that a no-no now? Do I need white noise? Where do I buy white noise from?! Will I be able to get anything else done or am I in for a complete handover of my life?
On the topic of Breast Feeding:
Will breastfeeding be as hard as it was with Chella and Odie? Will my tits ever recover? Are there new pumps and storing techniques I should be aware of? Is it every two hours or three? Can you even still get formula? I remember reading about a baby formula black market situation! How do I find the black market? Is it on Google Maps?
On the topic of parenting:
What the fuck am I going to do with a boy?! A BOY! We need to make sure he is a good human, we need him to be who he is, place no expectations on him. Barbies, trucks, ballet, footy – WHATEVER! He needs to respect women and also himself. Em, relax. The kid is still a foetus and the other two have turned out pretty great so far. THE OTHER TWO! Will I still be able to be a good Mum to them? Probably not! Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuuuck.
That’s only a sample. Some of the other things should never be put in writing. I woke my husband up and told him of my fears and he said ‘Why don’t you ask your people?’. He meant YOU GUYS! Yes Scotty! Yes I will! I remembered that I have hundreds of thousands of Mothers who follow me online! You lot are wise, fabulous and full of new information.
So what I want from you is your TOP FIVE products that you couldn’t live without when your baby came. I need the new school info y’all, I will carefully scroll the comments section over the weekend and hopefully come out the other side feeling a little more prepared.
At the very least, I may be able to decide on one fucking cot.
Go forth and impart your wisdom!
P.S Speaking of comments section, if you’re yet to read the comments from Monday’s blog (relationship commandments) you need to settle down with a nice wine and do yourself a favour. It’s some of the funniest stuff I’ve ever read. Seriously, well done to all who contributed.
P.P.S My community pins are back in stock and selling fast – this will be the last run of them for a while so get in quick!
P.P.P.S I wrote the opening number for next year’s live show this week, I WISH I could play it for you… The show is going to be my finest work, the tour will be the first thing I do after having the baby so I’ll be ready and raring to go. All I’m saying is: keep August free!