You will lose the weight. I know it’s been six weeks and you still can’t get your khakis over your knees. But you will lose the weight. You will be wearing maternity clothes for a while. Maybe longer than other women. Stop fighting it because it won’t be forever. And then you can go shopping.
You will not hurt the baby. You may be worried about it. Picturing, even, horrible things happening. Pushing the stroller into traffic. Throwing her out the window. It’s normal to have terrible thoughts. It’s not just you. But you will not hurt her. You aren’t insane.
Breastfeeding isn’t that big of a deal. I know that’s hard to believe and that you have fifteen books that say otherwise. I know everyone who has ever had a baby, known a baby, or been a baby wants to talk to you about breastfeeding. You are trying. Maybe you aren’t trying your hardest. Breastfeeding doesn’t have to be your goal. You will both be fine if you never become that mom who nurses in Starbucks while ordering a decaf vanilla chai tea.
Your husband can’t understand. Don’t blame him for that. And when you do blame him, forgive him. His everyday life hasn’t changed very much, but that isn’t his fault. He’s worried about you and the baby. He isn’t trying to be an asshole. You will like him again.
It won’t always be this hard. Well, it will always be hard, but don’t worry about that now. It won’t be like this. The bottles, the pumping, the constant diapers, the nighttime feedings, the crying, the sadness, the fights in the middle of the night, the regrets, the fear. You will all get better at this.
You will make friends. You will wear your old bras again. You will feel like yourself. And you will never be the same.
One day you will meet another new mom whose eyes are red from crying, who looks desperate, whose hair hasn’t been brushed in days, who’s wearing the same black yoga pants that she came home from the hospital in. Except now they’re inside out and backwards. Most people won’t want to go near her. But you will approach her with a smile, make cute noises at her infant–who is covered in baby acne and cradle cap. And you–dressed in your skinny jeans and boots, your kids now in school all day, your laptop in your messenger bag because you are so busy these days–you will ask her how she is doing.
You will want to do it all again.