Sometimes parenthood feels like hell and sometimes like heaven
What I wish someone had told me about the first year
There are two types of new parents: The ones who experience the cozy baby bubble upon birth, and the ones who don’t.
Just to be clear: In the beginning, everyone is affected by sleep deprivation, breastfeeding hurdles, and home chaos. Birth, no matter how it goes, is like being put in the washing machine and the first three months after that about figuring out which way is up. Everyone needs to learn how to walk again, literally and figuratively, and process that life-changing experience and the new reality.
Still, some parents love the newborn phase, and others simply don’t. The baby bubble ones generally tell you that it was so cozy to have a newborn at home, to watch tv all day with a baby sleeping on your chest, to order food, and navigate the struggles that way. Those parents will often tell you that when the baby starts to crawl and walk is when things start to be a real challenge.
We had asked our doula (who happens to be a mother of 4), during one of our birth prep sessions which phases she found the most difficult. She said it was around 18 months, when kids start to walk but they don’t have a sense of danger.
Then, there’s the parents who will tell you, in hindsight, that they’re not newborn baby types. They found relief when their baby started moving on their own.
It was the second version that we experienced. The first year of L’s life was the most challenging, and the more she was able to move, the easier things became. When she started crawling, she also stopped complaining that she couldn’t reach for things herself. When she started walking, she explored more on her own without us having to be close to her every single waking second of every single day.
No matter your experience, the first year is especially hard. Just like birth, parenthood is the kind of experience you have to go through to know it. It’s impossible to prepare for it. That said, if I could start again, I would try to get a layered understanding of the experience.
Having a child adds a lot of beauty, joy, and sense of meaning to your life. Where there are two parents, it makes a relationship stronger, it connects and unites families forever. I wouldn’t where to start to describe the way my heart leaps in my chest when L has a fit of laughter, when she learns a new skill, or does anything cute.
But having a child also puts a tremendous amount of pressure on a relationship. Sleep deprivation is a form of torture that makes basic functioning excruciatingly difficult and that skyrockets anxiety. A woman in a heterosexual relationship takes on a heavier mental, physical, and emotional load. It is easy to remember that she went through birth during the first few weeks postpartum. But when the dust settles, it is quickly forgotten that nine months of growing a baby and birthing them is not something you recover from in a month. Some research posits that postpartum lasts two years; other research shows that a mother loses over 40% of sleep during the first year of a baby’s life, which equals to war level stress.
The beauty and the love is deep, and so can the anxiety and the fighting.
So if I think long and hard about the essentials I would pass on to expecting parents, it would be only three things.
1. Read the book Nobody Told Me by Hollie McNish
Forget about the parenting and the Montessori books.
It is a mix of memoir and poetry that takes you from the moment Hollie finds out she is pregnant to the day her daughter turns three. I have read many articles and books about motherhood; this one is the most relatable I have come across. I would ask, pretty please, that men and close friends of new parents also read this.
It holds everything: The physical discomfort and beauty of growing a baby; the missing your baby when they sleep; the destroying pain of not sleeping; the burning need to have a warm cup of tea for yourself, alone while you’re cooking a meal, like you used to, even though you should really sleep. It contains the shit a mother receives when she tries her best to navigate life as a working mom. It contains all the judgment and weirdness of breastfeeding, in public or at home; the beauty and the pain of that experience. The beauty of Spring with a child, the generosity of grandparents, the invisible, unpaid work that mothers do — it’s all in there. Hollie’s honesty is incomparable, and the way she gives a voice to mothers around the world gives it the weight and visibility all our stories deserve.
Alternatively, you can watch the two videos below, Hollie McNish performing two of her brilliant poems about the multilayered people that are parents.
Somebody told me that mums are the rocks that never crumble
I don’t think that’s true
Cos I do
I cry hidden in loos
I scream alone in my car
And when I’m woken once more and desperate to sleep,
I weep
Watching the stars
My friends don’t have kids and still can’t believe I do
‘But you,’ they say ‘Hollie I can imagine anyone but you.’
So strange to see us with a child
They ask me what it’s like and when I answer them I lie.
I lie.
I say ‘It’s fine, hard work but really nice.’
as if those words well describe
I say ‘It’s tiring but really lovely. Yeah. Lovely.’
I don’t tell them all the times I cry
Tired eyes looking at her, amazed, to experience every tiny feature of her fresh canvas face or
that I gaze into daydreams as she sleeps because
I can’t believe it either. ‘I’m a mum,’ I repeat
2. Have important conversations with your partner, and start with these two questions: When you are at your worst, what do you need? How can we take care of each other?
I don’t think we had those. Not nearly enough, anyways. And I think we should have sat down even after L was born to ask each other over and over again.
For me, it’s movement, quality time to hug and process my thoughts out loud, and my favorite shows on repeat with a cup of milk tea. I wish I’d had someone there with me every day to bring me those things. It’s all I needed. But we don’t live in a world where this is possible. Nobody has a month to give you this stuff. It’s too much to ask a partner because they are also navigating their own stuff, and they have their own needs. Finding compromises is possible, but it takes time, and time is of essence here because every day feels hard when you don’t have an opportunity to reset.
And by the time you’ve understood and explained what you need, your friends and family need to go home, back to their lives. By the time you get it, you’ve been through a lot of fights that will also need repairing.
Having some clarity is important, though. Having people who remind you of those things you need also helps. I once heard that for a relationship to last, it’s okay to throw in the towel every now and then, the key is that both don’t do it at the same time. So having one of the two parents take the other out of their daze, bring them back to their sanity every now and then is really important.
I need to go slow; P needed to get things done. It took us a while to find a rhythm that fit both our needs. And in the middle, nobody was happy.
3. Practice letting go
Nice-looking nurseries, fancy strollers, educational reads… They are all useful, but they are not as useful as accepting the utter chaos that is life with a baby. The stroller will get stained, the nice-looking nursery full of unfolded clothes, the how-to instructions will annoy you for making it all look so easy.
So, practice letting go.
Of the mess around the house. Of laundry not done, of dirty dishes in the sink. Of work out sessions missed, of unanswered WhatsApp messages piling up.
Practice letting your ego to the side so instead of winning arguments, you commit to listening to the person in front of you, and commit to communicating how you really feel. Communication is everything in the first year of parents’ lives, as well as empathy. There is no need to understand each other perfectly. Instead, we can respect each others’ experiences and be there for one another in a way that works for both. Ask questions, especially about what is really important.
Parenthood is not easy; but above all, it is not a black and white experience. It is not just a baby bubble and it is not just sleep deprivation. Sometimes it feels like hell and sometimes like heaven. I wish somebody had told me about all this, so here I am, grateful for poets like Hollie McNish who say it so well — and for the inspiration to pass it all on.
Are you a parent? What essentials would your list contain? Are you an expecting parent? I would love to hear from you. Reply to the email or leave a comment 🤗
Are you new here? My name is Ely (rhymes with belly) and I write about modern motherhood with honesty in public diary notes. My journey started in summer 2023, when after 11 weeks, I lost the pregnancy I was carrying. I started this publication in August 2024, with a baby stuck to my chest in a wrap, in an attempt to find comfort, connection, and a space to process. Welcome and thank you for reading! You might also like reading our birth story ⬇️
