Several of my friends and neighbors are pregnant or just had a baby, and a couple of them will be having their first child this year. I started thinking about what advice would have been helpful to me before I had my daughter. I heard the standard “enjoy your sleep now!” and “sleep when the baby sleeps” (which is still the silliest thing ever). I also heard advice to slow down and enjoy the little moments – “the days are long, but the years are short” and “babies don’t keep.” When I was pregnant with my first. I didn’t know what I didn’t know. I probably forgot any actual good advice I received, thinking that everything would be fine. If I could go back and tell myself anything, it would be this: lower your expectations.
I struggle with setting high expectations for things. I build up events or situations in my head until reality can’t possibly reach my glorious imaginings. Motherhood was no exception. I had visions of structured days with cuddles, nursing, developmentally appropriate and stimulating activities, nutritious meals, and baby giggles. I would be a modern day June Cleaver. My house would be immaculate, my children clean and well-behaved, and I would keep myself looking fresh and put together on top of it all.
We all go into parenthood with expectations. We watch our friends, siblings, coworkers, and neighbors with children, and we make judgments—good or bad—about their parenting styles. We take note of the things that appear to work and the things we don’t want to copy. It’s human nature to want to learn from the people around us. I remember having conversations with my husband about how we were raised and what kind of parents we wanted to be. We talked about the things we liked about our childhoods, and what we wish had been different. We talked about our friends’ styles of parenting and which of their attitudes or strategies we wanted to emulate. We had plenty of conversations about hypothetical situations. And with a few exceptions (openness to homeschooling for example), we were on the same page.
Despite our conversations, the reality of parenthood hit us both HARD. It’s one thing to anticipate sleeplessness, but you don’t know just how physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted you will be in the early days until it happens. I imagined recovery from childbirth would be difficult, but no one prepared me for standing up and feeling like my organs were going to fall out of me. I may have been “cleared” to resume normal activities at my 6 week follow up visit with the OB/GYN, but I certainly wasn’t back to normal. Recovery can take YEARS, not weeks. I knew I’d have less time to myself, but didn’t realize that taking a shower long enough to wash my body and my hair would become a luxury. I hate grocery shopping as a general rule, but if I have a chance to wander Kroger by myself now, I will gladly jump on it and call it “me time.”
What I learned after having my first child is that my expectations have to be lower—especially in the early days—so that my sanity remains intact. The second time around, I was much more relaxed. I didn’t push myself to start doing much of anything at home. After my first, I was doing laundry within a few days of being home from the hospital, thinking that because I was the one home with the baby all day, I should also be doing all the housework and cooking. With my second, my butt was on the couch while I let my family take care of me and the chores. Was the house tidy to my normal standards? Nope, but it turns out that no one cared. We were all fed, clothed, mostly bathed, and that was enough.
The expectations I had to check were not just the tidiness of the house and nutritiousness of meals, they also extended to parenting my older child, developmental milestones for the baby, my personal appearance, and my ability to juggle the logistics of parenting two children, while managing a home and working part time during a global pandemic. My vision of June Cleaver had to be thrown out.
My body carried and birthed two children; it’s not going to look the same as it did before.
My children are individuals; they are going to do things in their own time and comparing them to others isn’t helping anyone.
I have to work; some days my daughter is going to watch more television than is recommended.
I only have so much energy; the house is going to be messier than I’d like it to be.
Realizing that my expectations were too high did not all of the sudden make me the chillest mom. What it did was help me evaluate situations differently. I began to play my own version of Katniss and Peeta’s “real or not real” game from Mockingjay, the third book in The Hunger Games series. Is this current situation a real problem or are my expectations just too high?
There are toys scattered all over the play area. Is that a real problem? No. I can tidy up later or just leave it for tomorrow.
I forgot to put dinner in the crock pot this morning. Is that a real problem? No. I can order out or throw in a frozen pizza.
I have a clogged milk duct that is starting to hurt. Is that a real problem? Yes! I need to prioritize nursing, massaging, a hot shower, and taking my supplements.
I forgot to call and schedule that appointment. Is that a real problem? Yes, but not the end of the world. I’ll put a reminder in my phone for first thing in the morning.
My daughter flatly refuses to wear jeans and seems allergic to clothes that match. Is that a real problem? No. She’s her own person with her own sense of style, and I have to let it go.
Once I started playing this mental game, my life got a little easier. It’s not a cure-all for my perfectionism, but it’s a helpful exercise when I start to get overwhelmed. So, if there are any new or soon-to-be moms reading this, please hear this: parenting is not a competition and there is no trophy. Lower your expectations for yourself and your baby. Prioritize your mental and emotional health by tackling the real problems and letting everything else wait. And call me if you get overwhelmed. I’ll bring you cookies and hold your baby while you shower (you can even wash your hair)!
