10 Lessons I’ve Learned Since Becoming A Mom (Twice)

My first birth experience was bad – so bad that I walked out of it feeling guilty; like I had failed.

What I (thankfully) figured out by the time my daughter arrived: There is no such thing as the “right” way to have your baby.

Do you have a child? Congratulations, you are a superhero and you can tell anyone who says that you *should* have done something differently to shove it.

For years I danced around the topic of breastfeeding, because I was so worried about being judged for having done it “imperfectly” (please).

Guess what? However – or even whether – you breastfeed is something you get to choose for yourself.

Your body. Your boobs. Your baby. Your choice.

With your first baby, everyone’s all “ohhhh how can I help?!?!?!” When your second baby arrives it’s like getting a puppy (or rather twenty puppies that never sleep and bark directly into your eardrums if you do): people will pet it and say that it’s cute when directly confronted with it, but other than that, you’re on your own.

Just because everyone expects you to be so super on top of things now that you’ve done this once (or twice) already, you still get to be a complete and utter – and unapologetic – disaster.

I grew up believing that – barring “serious” mental disorders like schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, a.k.a. “things that happen to other people” – it is a sign of weakness to ask others to help you fix a problem in your head. And then, after the birth of my second child, I finally gathered the courage to say that I couldn’t do it on my own.

It was among the best decisions I’ve ever made in my life.

It’s a terrible, terrible side-effect of parenthood: everywhere (like seriously: EVERYWHERE) you go, everyone (EVERYONE) will stop you and tell you to “savor the moment” (“it goes so fast!”). This will make you miserable, because of course it will. 

But remember this: watching them grow up may feel like a tragedy, but it’s not. It is the point.

I was scared of this, too. Terrified, in fact: I thought that my daughter’s birth would mean that my relationship with my son was…not lost, exactly, but…dimmed, somehow. Changed.

You know that old chestnut about how you don’t just have “space” in your heart for more than one child; your heart actually grows with each baby?

It’s true.

I did not understand the power of female friendships until strangely late in my life, but finally I get it: Our adult friendships, female or otherwise, have the potential to show us that we don’t have to – shouldn’t, in fact – rely on a romantic partnership to be everything we need.

It’s a hard thing to remember when you’re a grownup, and particularly when you’re a grownup with small and wildly demanding kids.

It’s important to remember anyway.

Working moms, SAHMs, whatever: none of us ever feel like we’re doing well enough at anything. We’re not giving enough to our work, or we’re not giving enough to our families (forget about ourselves). This is something we all struggle with, and just knowing that simple fact: it helps.

First, let’s just get it out of the way: your boobs are never the same after you have a baby.

NEVER.

Second, I had a breast augmentation after my daughter’s birth. And I felt really, really guilty about it, but I did it anyway (and made a video diary about it, obviously).

And?

I haven’t regretted my decision once.

To be clear: I’m not recommending breast implants. I’m recommending that you let go of the mom guilt for long enough to figure out what you – not your partner, not your boss, not your kids – might actually want. And then do it.

The most important lesson that I’ve learned since becoming a parent: Children are vicious, vengeful little creatures, and if they even suspect that you are about to attempt to relax and/or do something fun that does not include them, they will put an end to that BS faster than you can say “vomit.”

Speaking from experience. 

Twice.