I have been thinking a lot lately about how completely screwed first children are in terms of parental aptitude and general knowledge of 'how the hell to keep something alive that cant move its own body weight and doesnt know how to tell you whats wrong besides shrieking loudly'. Because really, I dont care if you are the genetic byproduct of a test tube full of Super Nanny, Mary Poppins, and African tribal dula DNA, your first infant is going to knock you on your ass. Its science. And in terms of what thats like for the parent, it starts out awful, but then gradually gets better until one day you wake up and think, holy shit, I actually like this tiny person and am starting not to mind the fact that I am its personal assistant 24 hours a day.
But what about the baby? Its got to be completely frustrating to know that you are hungry/tired/thirsty/wet/uncomfortable/crabby/lonely/too hot/too cold/fucking starving and the large fuzzy blobs that tend to your needs are constantly guessing wrong about what you want. How aggravating. So in honor of this trial by fire that all first borns go through, I want to take time today to let my son know just how sorry I am for being a total fuck up for the majority of his life so far. Begin.
Jack Big Booty Ho My Love:
Im sorry that when you finally decided to get the fuck out of my uterus, that when they put you on my chest, I was so exhausted that all I could do was lightly touch your arm and alternate between falling asleep and trying to see what you looked like. Im sorry there wasnt this huge motherly bonding love moment filled with choirs of angels and me serenely looking down at your tiny head with all of the compassion and proudness of the universe.
Im sorry you didnt get the full 90 min of skin to skin that ensures you arent a serial killer as an adult. Again, I was wiped. Plus you shit your nonexistent pants and they had to clean you up.
Im sorry--and for this, really, I could kick myself repeatedly -Im so so sorry that I let everyone telling me that YOU MUST BREASTFEED take over my rational thought process instead of saying FUCK OFF, the most important thing is that THE BABY GETS FED FOOD. Im sorry that you had to endure 2 weeks of me trying to get you to eat off my boob when for whatever reason, you just werent having that shit. Im sorry you were probably starving and really uncomfortable for that amount of time. I totally get it if you hold that against me into your 20s. I totally would too.
Im sorry that I took forever to understand if you were too hot or too cold. Your skin is like always this weird temp that feels way hotter or colder than the thermometer reading ends up being. And you arent very good at explaining how youre feeling.
Im sorry you were born in the butthole of the longest winter in the history of mankind. Im sorry you didnt legitimately see sun and grass and blue sky until you were 5 months old. They do exist. They are real and awesome.
Im sorry that I had PPD. Im sorry that I didnt smile at you enough or if I ever made you feel like I didnt care or love you in those first months. It wasnt you, it was me. But we have fun now. I hope that makes up for it a little.
Im sorry that you slept in 6 different contraptions with varying degrees of success until we finally realized, what the hell are we doing, lets just try the crib, which you loved. Im sorry that we woke up twice to see you sideways in your swing. I hope you werent like that too long. To be fair, that was like the one time you didnt cry when you were uncomfortable so you cant really blame us for wanting to sleep for more than 20 consecutive minutes in a row.
Im sorry for the internet. Im sorry I have been convinced that you must be dying of a thousand different aliments more than a handful of times when you were probably just cold.
Im sorry that I didnt figure out baby wearing until you were just on the verge of not liking it. That moby wrap is about 75 feet long and when the highlight of your week becomes showering uninterrupted for 5 minutes, complicated things have a way of making you say 'oh there is no way this shit is happening right now.'
Im sorry we didnt know that infant reflux was a thing. Im sorry it took a month of you screaming when laying down and burping up tiny baby acid burps for us to take you in and get you baby zantac.
Im sorry that every time you were going through a growth spurt, that we didnt immediately remember to just feed you more instead of trying every other possible option first. Again, if you just told us "hey assholes, Im trying to grow neural pathways here, give me more food!" it would have been a whole lot easier on everyone.
Im sorry we didnt realize that burping is actually super important to your state of being. Sorry it is more complicated than patting something on its back really should be.
Im sorry we didnt give you a pacifier until you were older. Thats 100% daddy's issue. He had some pacifier related PTSD that we worked through and once that was resolved you were much more content having that thing to mack on
Im sorry that I didnt just let you fall to your death like you wanted while trying to climb up the back of the couch. Just trust me, back braces are not in this season.
And most of all, Im sorry for thinking that you were a tiny adult when you came out, when really, you were just this tiny mushball of human gak that needed to be loved up and fed and kept warm until it transforms into the beginnings of a person around 4 months. Im sorry for getting frustrated that you needed to eat every 2 hours and that 45 minutes of sleep was all you were capable of at first, and for not understanding just how important touch and warmth was to you. Im sorry for not understanding during those first three months, that my whole life had to change whether I was ready for it or not. I hope that the fun weve had since then and the fact that mom and dad are getting a little better at this stuff makes you forgive us the bad times. Because no matter what, we will always love you and think you are the shit. Thank you for sticking it out kid.
Love,
Mom
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