Oh, the wonder of it all.

A funny thing happened in Buy Buy Baby yesterday: a frantic person asked me for help choosing bottles. And then a funnier thing occurred: I provided reasonable suggestions and advice *gong sounds*. I knew my Avent from my Dr. Brown’s and spoke about nipple flow options like a boss.

A few months ago, every stinking minute of motherhood was a struggle. It felt like I was constantly swimming against the current, gasping for breath and exhausted, convinced I’d never find dry land.

I spent an excessive amount of time wondering what the hell I was doing, and why no one warned me I would ruin my life bringing a child into the world. It was a dark time. But then the craziest thing happened.

It got better.

You guys–yeah, ALL of you–who gently reassured me, gave me advice, let me cry and redirected my dark-circled eyes to the light at the end of the tunnel…you were right. Thank you.

I should note that I did NOT believe you at the time. In fact, I wanted to slug you every time I heard, “Oh just wait until she smiles!” or “Trust me, it does get better!” I’d roll my eyes thinking, “These fools don’t get it…my situation is the hardest EVER.” I didn’t understand how what I was experiencing could possibly evolve into something I would be able to handle or enjoy.

Lo and behold, I came to realize that friends, family, coworkers, random strangers at Target, pediatricians and every internet forum were NOT collaborating against me (for a while it felt like world’s best-orchestrated prank.) Because after a few months, a supremely fussy baby did start to chill out, smile and SLEEP, and the darkness of post-partum hormones faded. I got into a rhythm and started having fun. I’m still very tired and very scared, pretty much all the time, but I’m so enamored it doesn’t matter as much. Without any fanfare, motherhood grew within me, into the fiber of who I am.

There’s logic behind this metamorphosis. When you’re completely sleep deprived and isolated at home all day with a tiny crying human, unable to fulfill your own basic needs, things get weird. Anxiety gets gnarly. There’s a massive, never-ending learning curve as a parent that I doubt will ever dissipate. But aside from the information I learned and the skills I slowly honed, I adapted my whole style of being. I stopped swimming against the current…which, when you think about it, is an illogical waste of time, and realized I could float on my back and go with the flow. It was still scary and hard, but it worked, and I could relax.

I ceased trying to live my pre- and post-baby lives as one. I stopped trying to be everything to everyone. I relinquished my white-knuckle grip on who I thought I needed to be and began to see that between the black and white, the old and new, there was a beautiful new gray (gray is very in right now…coincidence?!).

Of course I can sit here now and wax poetic about the hardest time in my life, and that doesn’t erase it. But I feel so indebted to everyone who helped me out, I needed to pay it forward to whoever else might be out there, just a few weeks behind me. It’s gonna be ok.

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