My partner and I had our second a few weeks ago and I received a number of 100% genuine (and appreciated) “have fun with the kiddo” and “enjoy this time while it lasts” messages and you know what? I fucking hate the newborn phase.
Lack of sleep makes me angry, and the entire newborn phase is a red tinted haze of fury. Here i am in the middle of the GODDAMN night rocking this fucking potato for 45 fucking minutes and it’s just staring at me without blinking having the time of its goddamn life. My fucking feet hurt, I’m getting fat because food is the only thing that brings me the tiniest flicker of happiness, my partner is frankly a raging bitch and I’m sure I am in return, the toddler loses his mind at the drop of a hat, and I’m supposed to enjoy it?
Nothing about this is enjoyable. I hate every fucking second and I can’t wait to sleep train this goddamn barnacle who I CAN’T EVEN HELP CALM BECAUSE I’M NOT THE ONE BREAST FEEDING and I guess that means the only person the baby will relax with is mom. Being helpful and competent are core aspects of my self image, and this mindless sack of shit has robbed me of that.
I’m so fucking tired.
I also *tried to focus on the newborn phase, not the newborn. It’s the collection of circumstances that are making me miserable, not the baby itself.
At this stage, there’s not much that can be the baby’s fault. It’s okay to vent and okay to be at a mental stage where you need to vent. The wet nurse who helped with my kid’s birth said, at this state of life, if your kid is pink and breathing you’re doing okay. (There is some presumption of race here and I apologize if it’s inaccurate.)
Seriously … Don’t hurt the kid, make sure he or she eats, and make sure they’re breathing. Show them as much affection as you and the mother are able. Sleep when you can. Your job right now is to keep them alive and growing. Later, probably really soon, they’ll reward you by becoming whomever they’ll be.