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By George, being a new mama is hard.

Fat Mum Slim /


I wasn’t going to write about the Royals. But then I woke at 2am and couldn’t get it all out of my head. So… I’m writing about the Royals.

I watched the other morning as the Royal couple {Kate & Wills} emerged from the hospital with their new bundle, except that I wasn’t watching the TV… instead I was watching Facebook and Twitter. And I wasn’t just waiting for the photos of the sweet bundle of baby, I was waiting for something else… and then bingo, it arrived.

Becoming a mama is huge. I feel like I’ve written about it a million times before, but it’s just a big deal. The moment they hand you that baby, the world changes. Love at first sight happens and it’s overwhelming, and your world shifts a little. You see the world differently forever more. It’s epic.

As I saw photos of beautiful Kate, glowing just 24 hours after birthing that baby, I wondered what would be the ‘thing’. The thing that brought the illusion of perfection underdone. Because I knew the world was waiting for it, for their headlines and their news reports. They wanted… something. I willed them to not drop the baby. I hoped she wouldn’t have the perfect post-baby figure. I hoped for as much as normal as possible. Not for me, for them. For other mothers. I held my breath as they passed the baby from one parent to another in front of the world and hoped that his little head was supported, and there wasn’t a ‘situation’.

And then in my Facebook feed the criticisms started. At first it was one lone business complaining about the straps of the baby in the capsule, and then slowly as the hours passed it became more and more and more… until last night it felt like every single update was about the baby and the darn capsule.

You know what I was doing just 24 hours after giving birth? I was in ICU, hadn’t slept a wink for 72 hours, and my hair hadn’t seen shampoo or conditioner for, oh, about 4 days. It was an oil slick of sorts. I was bra-less, and didn’t intend on putting one on at any point in the near future. My baby had cried non-stop for the 24 hours since birthing her, my nipples hurt from trying to feed, and I knew in a matter of hours I had a Physio coming to teach me how to wee again. Yes, wee. The old lady across from me had wailed all night, afraid she was going to die.

On day 3 of becoming a mama, I had an appointment for a hearing test for Lacey. It was just down the hall of the hospital and around the corner. I’d misplaced the only pair of shoes that I’d brought with me {I later discovered that my husband had accidentally taken them with him down to the car} so I grabbed the baby in my arms and walked barefoot down the hall to my appointment. The nurse went into a spin, “You can’t walk with your baby in your arms. And where are your shoes? Your baby needs to be in her crib, and then you can wheel her in here. Go back and get your shoes and the crib.”

So I did. I didn’t realise there were rules. I was proud of myself for actually getting out of my room and down the hall. Lacey hated that darn crib and it was sure to make her scream. But anything to abide by the rules. I think I even put on a pair of Hubby’s sneakers just to get back into that appointment. What a sight it must have been.

Imagine if Kate had walked out barefoot, Wills with a tin of formula under his arm, and George with a little dummy in his mouth. Imagine if her milk had suddenly decided to come in as she stood in front of one of the biggest media gatherings ever. Imagine if she’d walked with a waddle, her post-birth privates still aching from the delivery. Imagine if she had her Physio beside her reminding her how to urinate, giving her tips for when she gets home. Imagine if she and her husband were navigating parenthood for the first time…

And if you’re looking for the newsflash, this is it: Yes, safety is paramount and important. Always. But if you’re a new mum, you will make mistakes. Some of them will be big, and some of them will be small. But you will make them. It’s inevitable.

I hope Kate is in bed right now, bra off {shoes off too}, adjusting to life as a new mama without the world watching on. Because it’s hard enough doing it in private, let alone with the rest of the world peering in.


photo credit: nicholasjon via photopin cc