Baby Blog: Having A Baby Is The Ultimate High
Our young mum blogger has found that no amount of the nappy changing, projectile vomiting and constant feeding can dampen her love for baby Freddy
When I was pregnant, everyone told me “It’ll be tough once he’s here, but so worth it when you look at his little face”.
I had no idea what they were talking about. When he’s waking me up all night and filling nappies for me to change ten times a day all I’ll have to do is look at his face and it will all be OK? Really?
‘Yeah, we’ll see about that’ I thought.
Yet, about two days in and I was definitely looking at that face. And do you know what? It really was ALL worth it and it has been every day since.
The feeling wasn’t immediate. In fact, during the delivery I was convinced something had gone wrong because I didn’t really feel anything (emotionally speaking, that is - physically, that’s another story!).
Emotionally, I expected a rush of unconditional love and the music off ‘One Born Every Minute’ to chorus as he crowned but instead I almost didn’t recognise the little mess that appeared in front of me. Despite the nine months of prep, it took me a few hours to digest that I hadn’t just produced an alien.
But once it all sunk in it was like a switch flipped. I have never felt happier or happiness like I did the week after Freddy was born.
It was the ultimate high.
I remember telling the nurse in the hospital that the only other time I have ever felt something similar was when I was so infatuated with my first ever boyfriend when I was 14.
She definitely thought I was mad. And I definitely was mad. I couldn’t sleep without thinking about my little baby Fred. I actually looked forward to night feeds because they meant I would be able to wake him up.
Sadly, just like my boyfriend when I was 14, that didn’t last forever. But the happy feeling did last.
[Baby Advice From Baby Spice: Emma Bunton Gives Pregnancy Tips]
[Mum Diary: Would Getting A Puppy Be Crazy?]
It’s 100 per cent totally natural, purely brain-made euphoria and it’s awesome. In fact, I suggest you have a baby immediately, or at least be the one to market this feeling and make your millions.
It definitely sounds cliché but when I see him in the morning my heart literally rushes. Screw boyfriends, my baby is definitely ‘the one’. It’s like taking all the love you have ever felt in your life and then doubling it.
Sometimes I think I was just practising being happy up until now and this is real thing. The real deal.
I still often try to logically work out what is so fascinating about this little boy who doesn’t even know where his nose is. Or what his nose is.
Here is a list of frankly unlovable things that Fred has done to me which would usually be a total buzzkill.
When he projectile pooped onto the white nursery carpet as if he timed his diarrhoea to coincide with the minute I removed his nappy. See last week’s blog for more details.
When he projectile vomited during my brother’s birthday meal… at my brother.
When he unleashed hell via his nappy once again, this time at Hollywood Bowl.
When he demands I get up to give him milk. At 1am, 3am, 6am and 9am. 7 days a week.
If a man did those things to me, I would definitely dump him. Before suggesting he visit his GP.
However, with Fred he can do what he wants and I just fall more in love with him. Seriously, someone needs to bottle this mother-baby bond stuff, it’s blimmin’ incredible.
Saying that, everyone did warn me that the feelings would probably settle down. And they did. But that was before he did this:
Then I fell in love with him all over again and it was awesome.
Fred’s diary
Not to go all egomaniac on you, but I think my Mum is obsessed with me. She keeps looking at me with these gooey eyes and just stares at me when I’m in my crib at night. Then she pretends to go watch telly in the other room, but I know she is spying on me with the ridiculous video camera Big Brother-esque baby monitor she insisted on installing in my room.
The other day all I did was smirk at one of her and Nanny’s rubbish jokes and not only did she start squealing, she photographed me and sent my picture out to all her mates as a postcard. In fact, she keeps sending pictures of me to everyone. She calls it her Postcard Club, I call it child exploitation!
I’ve tried to put her off with a dirty protests or ten, but, alas, it seems no amount of nappy filling is enough to get rid of my Mum.
Once I heard her going on about how wonderful and beautiful I was to my uncle and that was it, I was actually sick right over his shoulder. What can I say? It just all really did get too much and I was (literally) about to hurl. So I did, right there in the pub. Wow, did my Mum’s face go red even when the barman assures her ‘it happens all the time’. Yeah, right.
[Mum Diary: The Baby Years Are Crazy Years]
[How I Made Bath Time More Fun For My Baby]
To summarise, I think she needs to get a grip already. This could get embarrassing when I start nursery.