New Motherhood Truths

We're all constantly subjected to it every time we open Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat: The flawless, polished moms and babies of social media. Infants spanking clean, decked out in their cutest onesies, early smiles spanning from adorable chubby cheek to adorable chubby cheek. Moms with perfectly curled hair, full makeup and freshly threaded eyebrows. Ah, motherhood in the age of social media.

Then I consider myself. I have a six week old. He's covered in crusted milk, wears nothing but a diaper 90% of the time, and wails more than he smiles. My hair's been in a bun since I went into labor, I couldn't tell the difference between a tube of mascara and lip gloss and I'm sporting a killer Frida Kahlo unibrow.

Motherhood has always been glamorized in the media, from ads in 1930s Good Housekeeping magazines to current WASPy Lululemon moms getting their kids happily out of the house, on time for school in Eggo commercials. But it wasn't until social media that people began to see their friends and acquaintances—people they actually knew—putting on a picture-perfect (literally) facade of how easy motherhood is. Cue the feeling shitty-ness.

Well, it's all a farce. Here are some truths about what new motherhood is really like.

1. Let's start at the beginning—breastfeeding is HARD, damnit.

Whoever puts the idea into every young woman's head that you are going to pop out your baby, the doc is going to place him on your chest and he will instinctively wiggle his way up to your engorged teat to effortlessly suckle your glorious momjuice... should be shot.

There may be 1% of the population for which this happens (the blessed, blessed few), but for most of us, the struggle is real. The baby doesn't know what it's doing. You don't know what you're doing. So most of the time you both end up frustrated—he with giving too much effort and probably still feeling hungry, and you with raw nipples and intense feelings of inadequacy. Not to mention you go through this dance every 2-3 hours. And that's from start to start. You are literally just a walking zombie tit those first few weeks. A walking zombie tit that's maybe 30% effective (you never really know!). No one told me that.

Seriously, your ONE job after giving birth is providing nourishment for your baby. Why isn't this easier? What's wrong with you?

Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you. Breastfeeding sucks (pun intended). Sometimes it gets easier, sometimes it doesn't. And it doesn't help that everyone you know will try to make you feel like a Hitler reincarnated if you even entertain the THOUGHT of throwing in the towel, while you're sitting there with your nipples dripping blood and hormones raging. Try to stick with it (I'm glad I did), but if it doesn't work out, don't let anyone make you feel like a bad mom. That's bullshit.

2. Days feel like years

Around week three I had an amazing day where I crushed it as a mom. My son woke up, I fed him, we went on a long walk around the park, played on his activity mat, drank coffee on the porch, had only a couple crying fits, took a nap, fed him again... things were going great. Dad would be home soon and we have had a GREAT day.

Then I looked at the clock and it was 9:15am.

Spending the entire day alone with an infant is like living in the Twilight Zone. You somehow simultaneously have ZERO time to do anything, yet every day feels like an eternity. Don't ask me how this is possible.

And let's address the isolation factor. A lot of first time moms (these days) pluck themselves from the workforce, at least temporarily, to devote their undivided time to raising their new baby (yay maternity leave!). Dad might take a week, maybe two, but then he'll go back to work and it'll be just the two of you. Just. The. Two. Of. You. Newsflash: It's a tough adjustment to go from the constantly socially interactive/mentally challenging work atmosphere to your sole companion being an infant. Add living in Florida, it being July and the heat index way too high to take your baby anywhere during the day to that... it's a recipe for insanity.

3. Moms really do sacrifice EVERYTHING

I'm not just talking about the usual things you hear about—our time, our sleep, our careers, our bodies (which is an UNDERSTATEMENT. Not only are we trying to figure momhood out on zero sleep, our bodies are also trying to heal from insane trauma.), moms of newborns sacrifice basic human rights and functions.

While I've gotten a tiny bit more savvy about how to fit vital human functions in throughout the day, the things I used to think were important now play second fiddle. Eating, going to the bathroom, and basic hygienic tasks have to be squeezed in during rare happy-chill time or while he's asleep (though most of the time in this scenario you'll choose sleep over brushing your teeth. I never thought I'd say that. But I am totally saying that.). Drive-thrus have become my new best friend (which is tough in the South... the only decently healthy one being Panera), because many days the only chance I'll get to eat is if he's happily asleep in his carseat. Sometimes I'll pack my lunch in the morning to be able to take it in the car and eat it while I'm driving later. To no destination.

No one told me that having an infant would mean giving up use of your arms for all other tasks. (*Mom hack: I've learned that breastfeeding time is a great time to knock out small things, just plan ahead and set yourself up).

But the biggest sacrifice? Your identity. You go from being your own person with your own likes, dislike, hobbies and freedom, really, to being "_____'s Mom." Your life is not yours anymore, and that's scary. It's important to try not to completely lose your sense of self, especially in the first few weeks, but it's going to happen to some degree. Some women were "Born to be mothers," but for others it's an adjustment—and that's OK.

So as you scroll through your social media feeds and see all these smiling moms and happy babies, don't feel bad about yourself. You're seeing a fraction of 1% of people's lives. PPD is real. Crying is OK. Motherhood is hard. Motherhood is messy. Motherhood is frustrating.

And as I sit here typing with my son sleeping on my stomach, it's hard for me to imagine anything better.