On 2 July 2020, I became a
MILF mum (though I might one day earn my MILF status yet… when the stars align).
In other words, Happy First Week to my baby boy! And happy first projectile poop too.
As relieved and grateful as I am about having my healthy and adorable baby in my arms, I'm not going to pretend that life is now filled with pink hearts and cute Facebook photos just because I have a baby. The truth is I am overwhelmed by the stress and difficulties of handling a week-old newborn.
In the past seven days, I have put up with cluster feeding marathons for five of those days. We're talking nursing sessions from 5am to 1pm one day; 1pm to 7pm the next day; even the average session takes around two hours because he is constantly falling asleep during his feeds. All I have to go on is the self-reassurance that things will get better with time.
It doesn't help that with the Covid-19 border lockdowns in place, my parents have been unable to travel here to help out. So it's just me and the hubby: two clueless first-time parents, learning as we go.
All in all, this week has been a real struggle — physically and emotionally — and I cannot wait until I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
I always knew parenthood was hard, but I had no idea just how hard it really is. And I am under no illusion that there will be even greater challenges (and hopefully rewards!) ahead.
This may be a negative-sounding post, but I write in the hope that some weeks or months down the track, I can look back on my memory of this first week and realise that things have indeed looked up.