There are lots of things you can do to prepare for life with a newborn. I’m not sure shopping for orange handbags and animal print clothes are two of them. Important rite of passage or massive denial? You tell me.
The End of Life As We Know It.
We are almost there.
Baby number 3 is now (possibly) only a couple of weeks away.
As we approach its arrival, otherwise known as ‘The End of Life As We Know It,’ I am behaving in an increasingly odd manner.
I have finally bought a packet of maternity pads. I have washed some babygros. But that’s it. Therein lie my birth preparations. I still don’t have nappies. I still haven’t packed THE BAG. I still haven’t committed to a birth venue.
Maracana in Brazil is rating highly on Daddy Pig’s list.
Buy new clothes and plan a party.
I’ve moved on from the IKEA phase of buying tealights and serviettes. And am now in another important rite of passage. When I say important, I actually mean frivolous, unnecessary and oh did I mention unnecessary?
Because nowhere in the NCT classes first time around do I remember a session entitled, ‘Now it’s time to buy new clothes and plan a party.’
Yet that is EXACTLY how I’ve spent the first week of maternity leave. Planning my birthday party, looking for an orange handbag and buying a frightening array of animal print clothes. I look like the offspring of a zebra and a leopard eating a satsuma.
I have a black leather jacket in my shopping basket that I can’t even zip up. A black leather jacket. In this heat?
I don’t think this counts as nesting.
Because even if the baby is fashion conscious, I don’t think it’s going to benefit from any of my purchases this week. It can’t sleep in the handbag, because it’s too flipping small and it’s likely to just be completely confused about its species if I’m wearing the zebra/leopard menagerie.
So is it worrying that the actual idea of a third person joining our family has not really registered on my radar? Is this what people mean by denial? Or am I just so comfortable by now with the idea of having a baby that no more fuss is needed?
Ha blooming ha.
The Baby Bubble.
Still, I’m going to go with the last one. For obvious reasons. Even though I don’t believe it for a second. Actually, I do have another explanation. Of sorts.
And that is the imminent return to ‘The Baby Bubble.’ And all that this means.
‘The Baby Bubble’ is a funny old place. I’ve been there twice before and outstayed my welcome both times. I’m sure I will again. I don’t need to tell anyone who’s been there what it’s like. I could probably just say ‘three hourly feeds’ and their reaction would say it all.
If you haven’t been there, I could probably still say ‘three hourly feeds’ and I think you’ll get it.
It’s relentlessly intense.
The lull before the storm.
The fact that I breastfeed means that I struggle even more to live outside of this baby bubble. For the first few months at least. A combination of practicalities, like the baby actually needing to eat, and the crazy hormones that attach me and the baby together like two stubborn pieces of velcro means that I go off the radar. Just a bit.
In five weeks you’ll visit this blog and likely all you’ll find is a bubble with me floating around in it trying to string a sentence together. Bring a pin. Please.
So, I guess I’m really not in denial. Just trying to make the most of things before it all changes again.
Before I have more important things to worry about than orange handbags and leopard print shoes.
What’s your experience of ‘The Baby Bubble?’ Does the memory of it make you nostalgic or send shivers down your spine? Leave a comment below and then when you’re done head on over to Surviving Life and Motherhood. And don’t forget to bring that pin.