What the Baby Books Don't Tell You...

First off, I want to thank everyone who has read my blogs thus far.  I didn't anticipate that anyone other than maybe my husband and mom would actually read this thing, so I'm very grateful for all the kind responses I've received.  Since a large number of responses I've gotten are from soon-to-be-mothers, I thought I'd dedicate this blog to imparting some of the knowledge I've picked up thus far on my journey.

Baby books are great.  Personally, I read every single one of them, because I was determined to become the perfect parent.  And while the various tomes out there were somewhat useful (for example, I know everything there is to know about colic), I learned within about 5 seconds of giving birth that there were major gaps in my education.  So here's a little sampling of what the baby books left out:


No matter how hard you try to prepare, you will be utterly useless as a parent at first, and that is TOTALLY FINE.  No book out there that I read really hammers this home.  You cannot adequately anticipate is how floppy and helpless newborns are.  They only weigh a few pounds, but they can't hold their heads up, so you have to reconfigure everything you know about how to move a small object.  You could have the manual dexterity of a concert pianist, but the first time you go to hold your newborn, you will find that your hands have been transformed into giant, useless slabs of meat. 

Taking care of a newborn is much like driving a car: it's not TECHNICALLY difficult, but no matter how many times you've seen it done, the first few times you try it yourself, you will be completely terrified and quite certain someone is going to get hurt.  When we took Jackson in for his one-week check up at the pediatrician's office, he had an explosive poop the second we got his diaper off.  Despite the fact I'd been changing his diaper for an entire week at this point, it caught me completely off-guard, and all I could do was nod dumbly as the nurse commented, "First-time parents, eh?"  My purpose is not to frighten (especially since babies, much like wild animals, can smell fear), but rather to reassure that no one knows what they're doing, and that's okay. 

Sleep deprivation does funny things to a person.  I'm convinced that the reason they tell you not to take your baby anywhere for the first 6 weeks is not because they're worried about the baby catching an infection, but because someone who hasn't slept in 6 weeks should not be operating a motor vehicle. I had erroneously assumed that because I pulled all-nighters in college I would be able to handle not sleeping with grace and aplomb.  Yeah, not so much.  The problem is this: one sleepless night is okay.  Two sleepless nights, and you're a bit cranky.  Three or more, and you start to bear a resemblance to Mick Jagger both physically and in terms of speech patterns.  My dad once fell asleep on the toilet at work because he was so exhausted. 

David and I combated this by setting up a schedule for night-time feedings.  David took every feeding before 2am, and I took every feeding after 2am.   But most importantly, our pediatrician worked with us to sleep-train Jackson, so that by 2 months, he was sleeping through the night.








Some other observations:

Babies are very smart.  Do not underestimate them.  Literally as I am typing this, my son just figured out how to move the barricade I very carefully built to keep him out of the kitchen while I'm writing.  It's an awesome feeling when your baby out-smarts you, which they will do A LOT.  Which brings me to my next observation:

Silence IS NOT golden.  The second you stop hearing those sweet little coos and shrieks, you better drop whatever you're doing and RUN, because it means your child is either about to drop your cell phone in the toilet or they've got your chihuahua in a choke-hold.  Babies know when they're doing something they're not supposed to be doing, so the second they've managed to wrestle your great-grandmother's vase off your end table, they become stealthier than a ninja.

Infant saliva has the same chemical composition as battery acid.  Granted, I have no medical documentation to support this assertion, but it's the only way I can explain the fact that Jackson has destroyed a cell phone, a remote control, and as of this morning, a cell phone charger simply by placing them in his mouth.


Start keeping everything you own two-feet off the ground.  Once your child starts moving, they will break, damage, eat, or maim anything within their reach.  So alas, your home will be completely devoid of any objects from the waste down.  This includes bookshelves, coffee tables, and houseplants.  Oops, did you take your shoes off and forget to lock them in a closet?  Oh, too bad, because your baby is now chewing on them.

And finally:

Get used to being totally grossed-out.  Whether it's walking around with vomit in your hair or pulling a clump of dog fur out of your child's mouth (true story) you're going to find yourself redefining the word "clean" as "something that probably won't kill my child".  As a germophobe, this was very hard for me, but if you totally freak out every time you catch your child trying to eat a dog toy, you will give yourself an ulcer.  Instead, I learned to quickly remove the disgusting object and repeat the words, "It probably won't kill him" over and over.

Hopefully this helps shed some light on ACTUAL parenting.  Veteran Moms, feel free to chime in where I've left something out.