I have been thinking lately, I don’t know when I will stop being a “new mother”. My baby is almost a year old, though it feels like a few days ago that I heard her first cry. Not a day goes by without me learning new things about her and discovering a little more potential in me to be this new mother. I can’t imagine ever comfortably saying I am experienced in this whole mothering venture; even when my daughter turns 50. Anyway, my life has changed, in a really big way, after this title of “new mother” was coined to me. If you are a new mother, read on and watch you nod in agreement, at least a couple of times. If you are going to be a mother, this is more or less how your bitter sweet journey is going to be.
Sitting here on my sofa in Sydney, I am going through my old pictures; careless and free. My clothes didn’t necessarily have to have an open at the front to accommodate nursing, and nor did my hand bag have nursery prints on it. Now that she is here, everything is different. My choice of clothing is limited, I stick to the two baby bags, and heels? No way! What if I trip over while carrying my baby? The long sessions at the salon are well in the past. My hair hasn’t been seen in anything else in an involuntary messy bun for what seems years now. I go in to a shop, wanting to update my wardrobe, only to realize my feet are effortlessly taking me to kids’ section. I walk out with many shopping bags, filled with clothes for her. My life has changed, in a really big way, but do I complain? No. I love every bit of it. Seeing my baby all dolled up, even though that lasts only a few seconds, enough to just click one picture, is way more satisfying than the most expensive brand of lipstick on my lips.
My living room is a huge play pen, really. My most prices possession in the house is my ottomans, ninety percent of which has now been invaded by my babies’ toys. Piles and piles of laundry undone, food stains all over the floor, power sockets covered, table edges siliconized, every door, ever drawer locked; it is just not my clothes, but also my house that has changed in a really big way.
But then I think, if not for her happiness, is a neat house even worth it? I tried to tidy it up a bit and mask the baby-friendliness of my house every time someone says they are coming over, but then I gave up; this is my baby’s home, not anyone else’s.