Being pregnant and/or having a new baby puts a giant (GIANT) “PLEASE! JUDGE ME OPENLY!” sign on your forehead. And the backside of your birthing hips. And across your enormous pregnancy boobs. There also seems to be a flashing neon sign that radiates from your entire existence.
Why do you have a crib bumper?
She’ll have bad teeth if you use a pacifier.
In my day we would have never worn maternity clothes like that.
If you even so much as dip your toe in that hot tub your going to boil your baby.
Why are you taking medicine?
Why are you eating that?
You’ll be breastfeeding won’t you?
Why aren’t you breastfeeding?
Your baby will be fat if you use formula.
Don’t hold that baby too much, you’ll spoil it.
Your baby looks hot.
Your baby is going to freeze.
Your baby is hungry.
Your baby is tired.
You look tired.
You know it wouldn’t hurt to brush your hair.
Did you know you have stains on your shirt?
You’re not supposed to carry babies in slings.
Babies who spend too much time in strollers cry more.
Did you know your baby has a grenade?
WHY DON’T YOU LOVE YOUR BABY?
I just learned today that not only am I going to be suffering from premature cleavage wrinkles, my baby is also going to be born green and with a third eye because I didn’t spend $70 on a blanket. That’s a lot to handle before 9 am.
I want so desperately for my boobs to work this time around. I was so emaciated by the time I delivered Addie my body was not going to be giving up any more calories to sustain anything or anyone else but myself. Addie was formula fed after three long weeks of nursing, bottle feeding, pumping, brewers yeast, supplemental nursers, an almost devastating brush with Reglan and a La Leche league member who caused me to throw a phone.
Addie is not fat, she has no food allergies, no seasonal allergies, no asthma, she has had two ear infections in her entire life and aside from the weird little barfing thing she has? She rarely gets sick. She can count to 100 three different ways, can read better than I could at 8, has the fine motor skills of a surgeon and the coordination of a Manchester United goalie. (More or less, she gets a little clumsy during growth spurts, let’s be honest.)
This is a kid who was not only formula fed but was sustained through pregnancy on Gatorade, macaroni and cheese and IV’s. AND! She had a crib bumper.
I’ve done the best I could so far with that little kid and she’s turned out swell.
I think we’re all trying to do the best we can with these little lives that have been entrusted to us.
I have to have faith that my instinct with this next one is better than Nosy Nancy’s observations of what I’m supposedly doing wrong.
Besides, Nancy probably doesn’t even realize how awesome babies look with grenades.