“We have a situation,” my spouse grimly informs as I crack open a reluctant eyelid. It’s still dark outside but I recognise that all too familiar clipped tone of factual resignation that crackles audibly over our baby monitor. “It’s a poo-nami.”
I bolt out of bed and swoop into our little boy’s bedroom, surveying the carnage, feeling like a jaded crime scene investigator. Yep. It’s a poo-nami, all right. A tsunami of baby poo on a Richter scale so epic, it’s exploded out of Junior’s snug diaper. And judging by the evidence in his cot, we definitely need to do yet another load of laundry ASAP.
At the end of the nursery, my valiant other half is wrestling our wriggling baby down on the changing table, which is creaking in protest. Babies behave like little drunk people, I’ve been told. Ours is definitely that. Also, sometimes, a troll. Not the cutesy Dreamworks variety, mind you, but the kind that lives under a bridge.
“Once-glorified illusionist…” I mourn and gag as I help clean Junior’s dirty bottom, only to be rewarded afterwards with a steely yank of hair by my ungrateful child.
I doubt the feisty, free-spirited woman I was just a year ago would recognise the person I am today. Having juggled various odd jobs simultaneously (I was at one time “bao-ga-liao” office intern, tuition teacher, waitress, freelance scriptwriter for local video production houses that never ever paid on time, online shop girlboss, and pasar malam hawker of curry puffs that my parents made all in the same period) while studying part-time for my Bachelor degree, I say this with complete sincerity: Parenting is the most humbling experience a modern, capable woman can go through.
WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY BODY?
It begins with your pregnant body going through a host of changes—some of these changes are irreversible (hello, leather nipples, hello, alien boobs). There are things people don’t talk about because it is so un-PC. For instance, Google “episiotomy”. Learned a new word? You’re welcome.
Also, perpetual forgetfulness aka “mom brain” is, sadly, a real thing. As are post-partum hormones. Too real. I never thought the day would come where I’d actually start bawling after watching a Pantene commercial.
Obviously, postpartum depression or baby blues is inevitable too. It happens when you don’t have solid support and are dealing with a severe lack of sleep while your body struggles to recover from the trauma of childbirth. Then, as if your self-confidence hasn’t already taken a hit (newsflash: you’ll still look like you’re six months pregnant after childbirth, so nothing in your old wardrobe fits), you wonder whatever happened to that dynamic modern woman you used to be before you turned into a zombie who struggles to multitask. You also stop wearing makeup, your nails are no longer painted, you practically live in milk-stained pyjamas, don’t use a comb, and there are days where you’d gladly trade shower time for sleep.
“So what’s the trade off at the end of the day?” My friend Ethan, a new parent to a lovely little girl a few months younger than Junior, asked when we finally found time to schedule a chat over Zoom. “What makes all this worth it?”
No one’s ever asked me that before. The trade off.
Well-meaning folks had, when I’d shared that I was really, really struggling on some days, told me things like “But this is exactly what you always wanted! You’re a mom now!”. Okay, thanks. But this sort of pressure does not help a woman who’s trying to get a grip of this scary uncharted journey called motherhood, while still hanging on to her sanity. I mean, you can read all the award-winning books on the subject of parenting but nothing can fully prepare you for what’s to come.
“Well.” I said as I watched Ethan and his beautiful family of three stare back at me on my laptop screen. They’d just heard all about how I had to prick my fingers several times a day on test strips and inject insulin (I know it’s ironic for a crime novelist, but I do have a deathly fear of blood and needles). I had gestational diabetes which could not be controlled by diet alone, and then when I was breastfeeding, I developed acute mastitis that was so terrible that I went to bed every night clutching a bag of frozen corn. I tried resisting going to the hospital despite my high fever because of the fear of COVID-19, the mastitis was bad. I had to do an MRI to screen for cancer and they drained my boob twice. That procedure itself was far worse than childbirth, and I genuinely thought I was not going to live through it as the anesthesia did not work and I felt everything that was done to me. It felt as if my body was not mine anymore.
“Well?”
I turned the question over in my mind. The answer to my friend’s query did not come naturally to me. But when it finally hit me, I wondered: could it actually be so simple?
“At the end of the day,” I found myself saying. “It’s the small things. Seeing Junior smile.”
“Just a smile?” My friend raised a skeptical eyebrow. I instantly recognised the masked emotions in his tight voice. I’d been there months earlier, freaking out about being the lifelong protector and caregiver to this little one we’ve brought into the world. “Really?”
I nod. “Yeah. Him smiling a happy smile that is just for you. At you. Watching him make all those little steps toward progress. The first few months were really challenging but then, it got easier. And when he throws his arms around your neck and babbles his cute little baby talk, looking at you with the purest love and adoration in his eyes, oh man, your heart just melts!”
“So, in conclusion, we are just suckers for self-torture,” my spouse chimed in, guffawing.
Later that night, as we settled our sleepy eight-month-old into his cot after coaxing him with soft lullabies and silly songs we made up, I had an epiphany while stroking his hair. Parenting is essentially Adulting 2.0. And this is Ning 2.0.
Parenthood has made us different people. Better people. More patient. More understanding. More giving. More resilient. There is no going back to being the same person I was before we made plans to become parents. I need to figure out how to balance motherhood and work which brings me joy. And as a creative person, I also got to re-think how to manage my time better since there are just 24 hours in a day. But I know it’s all going to be okay because I’ve seen great examples of friends who have managed to juggle it all.
While it is true that these are especially trying times to raise a child, no thanks to the current pandemic, you do learn to focus on the positives. You are also challenged to wire your brain to search for solutions, instead of obsessing over problems. And you want to be the best person you can for your little one.
Also, this beautiful thing called Life also reminds you to stay humble because at the end of the day, we are just human and can only try our best.
One step at a time. One smile at a time.
