Labour, Newborn, Parenting

Why It’s OK To Think Your Baby Isn’t As Beautiful As Everyone Is Saying

Wow. It’s true what people say, even third time around – as soon as your baby is placed in your arms, you really do forget all about the pain you’ve just gone through. It instantly disappears.

I would love to be one of those Mums who gushes and exclaims how perfect and how beautiful their baby is. I am not one of those Mums. I am mesmerised at how my body has nurtured this tiny alien person inside me and that he is 50% me and 50% Beard. I am amazed that we can create life, and I am dumbfounded at how this happens and how magical that is. The fact that these weird swimming frogfish shoot out of a nob and then have a bit of an adventure in a woman’s body, in search of the elusive egg of dreams. And then one, just one lucky tadpole finds it and just dives in headfirst. It’s a little bit like my dog sniffing out the crumbs from a bag of crisps, but a bit more incredible. And of course, creates life.

Although the new life created, that I simply cannot comprehend, what I am more concerned about is that my newborn son looks like a cross between a toad and Shrek. He’s blotchy and swollen and the size of an elephant at 9lb 1oz (so much for being told he is tiny). Despite his current unattractiveness, he is our best yet. And that is nothing to be proud of. Josh looked like he had just been catapulted from Mars and landed on earth head first, as he entered at super galactic speed (courtesy of the ventouse extraction I had to have).
Finn had clearly done 30 rounds with Tyson and his battered, bruised, bulging face was only the sort of face a mother could love, but good god I struggled!?

The good news? After just a few weeks, the cute factor kicked in, and they turned out to be incredibly handsome boys, so I live in the hope that Austyn will too.
Fingers crossed the swollen, chubby, chinless, hairy face will change over time. Preferably into something slightly more human-looking.

After 5 hours and 15 minutes in labour, Beard is exhausted and is limping. He has put his back out and has a terrible headache. Sandra, our midwife, feels awful for him and asks her colleague to nip off and get him a cup of tea and some pain relief. In the meantime, she plumps the cushions and creates a comfortable haven for him to snuggle into with his son and get some shut-eye.


Sorry!? Am I living in cuckoo land?!!!! Not only have I had contractions since 8.30am the previous day while delivering goods we sold on Facebook to people (granted they did stop at lunchtime). I then endured the agonising wait of not knowing if everything was ok, having absolutely no sleep and then completing the minor task of delivering our baby safely AND THEN having the worst experience post-birth of having my placenta stuck. Thus, resulting in it being physically pulled out to avoid an emergency C-section. But don’t worry about all that. I am now left “abandoned” and uncared for as people dote on my “poor husband”. Yes, you must be exhausted, darling. Poor bloody you.
I decide to shower and attempt to beautify myself immediately so I can leave and be home in time for lunch. Let’s get some perspective here. I rock. Not you with ya freaky frog resembling sperm and ya gammy back…! I just facilitated life for the past 9 months and then physically evicted it from a hole that really should not be able to do stuff like that.

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