Baby blues. That's why. That bastard day 3 postpartum.
The baby blues are not helped much by the invention that is the baby bath. They're such cute little things! A lickle miniature bath for your waterbaby to splash about in and get squeaky clean after endless poonami's and spew ups through the day. But what you don't know about baby baths is they were invented to destroy your soul. You'll fill it up with lots of bubbles from your special baby bedtime bath range (to help them sleep, OH PLEASE GOD LET THEM SLEEP!) and then you'll realise you can't move the damn thing. You'll manage to do your best heavy weight lifting impression and hobble through to the next room with it only to find that you've lost half its contents (which are now spilled through the entire house) in the desperate struggle. You'll then hear your husband, who has been conveniently missing throughout the manual labour, slip and fall with cries of 'that BASTARD baby bath!!' For the fifth time that week.
You will soon become fluent in another language. The language of your child. You'll be expected to analyse the face of the adult that your child is gobbledegooking away to, recognise a moment of desperate confusion and awkwardness, and quickly jump in to interpret exactly what has just been said.
You may sometimes have to lie about what your child has just burbled about
"Avvvvva wooooed (I've pooed)
"What did she say?"
"Oh...she said I love you"
That type of thing.
But like it or not, your job will be Mum - Interpreter.
You'll be so busy interpreting and spending every second with your little cherub that they'll fill every crevice of your life. Knowing this you'll be desperately careful not to come across as 'that mum' who speaks of nothing but her kids all day every day. But the temptation to tell every one in the entire world that your baby just rolled over ALL BY HIMSELF will be far too strong and the internal battle of being 'that mum' and bragging about your mini genius will cause this information to blurt out at the most irrelevant times, to practical strangers. Like the postman.
People will unfriend you on Facebook. Because...baby pictures.
You'd give up your left lung for a moments peace. Seriously, you can't remember the last time you went for a wee without two round eyes peering at you and poking your face. But the minute someone offers to take them off your hands you'll become all defensive and obsessive
"WHAT!? Of course I don't need a break! They're my CHILD! I've got this covered Thankyou very much!"
If you do let someone take them for a while you will instantly miss them as soon as the door clicks shut.
Netflix won't be for Dexter, American Horror Story or OITNB anymore. No. It will be Paw Patrol, SpongeBob and fricking Caillou.
You will gain disgusting habits. You'll scrape your child's leftovers straight in to your mouth, even ramming that chip you found on the floor in to your mush. Anything to avoid actually walking to the bin. A task that is too tiresome to bare.
Your child's snotty nose will be wiped clean with the sleeve of your cardigan, and you'll smell their bum approximately every half hour just to check for a whiff of crap.
You'll find trumps cute.
You will despise yourself for pre baby days when you took for granted the time you actually had to shower. Because now showers are impossible. A hot cup of tea/coffee will also be something you'll wish you'd savoured. What used to be a café latte will now have turned in to luke warm instant coffee microwaved thrice.
It will take longer to prepare to leave your house than the length of the whole trip you are planning to leave for. There will be several attempts to leave but you'll be forced to retreat back in to the house for a multitude of reasons. But mainly faeces.
You will find that your husband/partner that you once loved beyond belief is now at times the most utterly annoying, decrepit little thing you ever laid eyes on. Where as you used to smile goggly eyed at his backside when he turned his back to leave the room, you will now aggressively flip him the bird 50 times in a row whilst mouthing "fuuuccckkk offff."
But you're in this together, even though he does disappear at bath time and nappy changes, which is why you do these things behind his back.
You may become a hypochondriac rushing to the doctors for the smallest thing. 'She's got a rash!! Yes we need to be seen immediately!'
Only to be told that no, it's not meningitis, it's dry skin. No, one ear isn't bigger than the other, and yes, it's perfectly normal for your child to have that type of bowel movement'
All your google searches will now start with "why is my baby....?" and you'll have a semi nervous breakdown each time you have to clip your baby's nails.
But in all this you will not realise how each stage gets more difficult in different ways. You will be too busy being knee deep in crap, telling them 'no! We don't eat the potpourri,' and praying for them to sleep but immediately prodding them when they sleep longer than usual.
But most of all, you will be too busy laughing more than you've ever laughed in your life, loving more than you've ever loved, and being prouder than you could ever imagine.
Because every moment of despair, desperation, tears and tantrums is completely and undeniably worth it.