Within a few weeks of giving birth, I was having panic attacks at the prospect of being home alone with my own baby. I dreaded every feeding and started developing compulsive ticks to cope with my anxiety, like having to check the locks on the front door a certain number of times before bed and having to sleep with my hand on the baby’s chest all night to make sure she was still breathing. Yes, I was later diagnosed with postpartum depression. But what made those weeks truly difficult is that, outside of my husband, I had no one to turn to about the way I was feeling. Only one person asked to visit me after the birth of my child. Other friends either waited until the baby was older or we lost touch completely. I don’t blame anyone — I didn’t know how to ask for help just as much as they didn’t know how to offer it. But those first months and weeks of motherhood were the hardest, loneliest time of my entire life, and I learned a few important things about having a newborn that no one had really bothered to tell me before I gave birth:
- Newborns don’t need a lot of stuff. They need diapers, a safe car seat, a place to sleep, and as many easily washable and simple outfits as you can possibly stock up on. None of these baby tutus and newborn Converse sneakers. Get a 40-pack of generic white onesies you can bleach and call it a day. You can shop once you’re both sleeping more than two hours a night.
- Wipe warmers and automatic formula dispensers and all manner of electronic products that are supposed to make things easier but actually just make them take longer are useless wastes of $50.
- The one gift new moms need more than anything — ANYTHING — is support.
“What if we took all the energy, time, and money that goes into prenatal fanfare and instead put it toward helping new parents when they need it most: during the emotional and physical recovery of the first six weeks after giving birth?” Marissa Mendez Marthaller asks.
And she’s right. Why are we still asking clueless new parents to make gift registries and spending hundreds of dollars on boring parties with ridiculous games when we could be funneling that time, energy, and money into actually being helpful? Sure, the financial help that comes from having a baby shower is important to many expectant parents. A baby shower is a kind gesture, but it’s not enough. We have to say out with the silly diaper games and in with being willing to give of our time, our advice, and our physical ability to step in and do a load of laundry, no matter how spit-up stained it may be. We have to be willing to ditch tradition in the name of truly being there for the women we love. As Mendez Marthaller writes for Bust, “Everyone knows it takes a village. That village just needs some radical readjustment.”
