I’m Having a Baby on Sunday!
The plan is, I’m going to be induced. I might have an epidural. Or maybe not. I might breastfeed. Or maybe not.
OK, fine, it’s not actually me having the baby—it’s my very very very close friend who’s being induced on Sunday.
But—I so wish it were me.
In the days leading up to the birth, I’ve sent my friend texts with a bunch of suggestions she didn’t ask for…don’t judge.
Such as:
- Have an epidural—and guess what, it still hurts a LOT, like you want to die, and they dial it back when you have to push, so you want to die even more, so good luck with all that. I may have left out the “like you want to die” parts, out of love for my friend. If you decide not to have an epidural, props to you.
- Breastfeed for at least six months, if you’re able. I think it benefited my kids, maybe not. They’re adults now, and one of them gave me sh-t today…maybe if he was formula-fed, things would have gone down differently. So take a grain of salt with this approach. If you don’t nurse, that’s OK, too.
- Let me come and take care of the baby while you and your husband catch up on sleep. Yes, we know each other well—well enough to take the most precious thing in the world under my care? I’ll plan on the answer being yes. I’d be over the moon. I’ve never dropped a baby. Yet.
With my two sons, the weeks following their births were such special, life-changing times. I had a solid husband who went out of his way to help me, and the memory that jumps out at me is just sitting in the rocking chair, nursing the baby. All my “problems” seemed to fall away. Whenever I see a child under 5 years of age, I sometimes tear up because I miss that early stage so much. (I’m not sure any mom has ever said she missed the teenage years – although I found those pretty enjoyable too, in a different way, with “Kitchen Karaoke” and such.)
I remember when I told my Mom I was pregnant with my first child. The first words out of her mouth were, “I am very surprised that you are having a child, and I don’t think you are suited to be a mother,” WHAAA? She wasn’t exactly Grandmother of the Year. I never let her babysit, in case she tried to use the baby’s soft spot for an ashtray. Not to be trite, but I think my kids are my greatest achievement. I definitely learned from my family what NOT to do when raising a child. They remember everything that you say and do, so you need be careful with that. My goal was for them to not end up on a psychiatrist’s couch citing me as the reason for many of their problems… I think I did OK?
My friend, I can’t wait for my, I mean your, baby to come! Babies put everything into perspective. Celebrate life. xoxo