“Remember when I went crazy and bought that secondhand Snoo?” I asked Andrew the other day.
I was in my third trimester and had put my blood, sweat, and tears into cleaning that thing because the internet had convinced me I would never sleep again and couldn’t possibly survive without an expensive-AF robot rocking my baby all night, lol. To be fair, they were right about the not sleeping part.
But for us, what ended up helping most was keeping her close to me all night. So yes, the person who bought a Snoo ended up becoming a full-on co-sleeping mom and the Snoo was lovingly passed along to another mom.
Thinking back on it made me laugh because it’s so interesting how we think we know ourselves, but until we cross the threshold and our baby is actually here, we really cannot anticipate how motherhood will change us.
We can save reels, read books, watch our friends become parents, and form strong opinions about how we might do things. And then this little bebe arrives and rearranges life as we know it.
So, I wanted to share some other things that ended up looking completely different once I became a mom.
I think this goes without saying, but my version of motherhood is simply mine. This is not a comparison between my journey and anyone else’s. The only two people I’m comparing here are pre-mom me and current me.
And current me has been lovingly humbled on many an occasion. Hah
This is something I said before I was even pregnant.
My husband and I had serious conversations about what parenthood might look like for us. Would he become a stay-at-home dad? Would I become a stay-at-home mom? Would we both keep working and send our child to daycare? Would we hire a nanny?
I’m grateful that we went into these conversations on an equal playing field. There wasn’t an automatic, “Oh, of course you’ll be the one to stay home,” simply because I was the woman. We both have careers and contribute financially. We both understood that either of our lives could change significantly when we had a baby.
But once I actually became pregnant, my mindset started to shift. And then once my daughter was born, I was basically a different person entirely.
Like… you couldn’t pry this baby from my arms if you tried.
In those early postpartum days, I wanted nothing more than to give up everything and stay home with her. Now, postpartum hormones are strong as hell, so with a little time, I know I don’t truly want to give up everything (but I would if that’s what it took). Thankfully, I still get to write, create, and do work I love alongside motherhood, although in a much lighter capacity than before.
What I’ve realized is that when pre-mom me said, “I don’t want to be the primary parent,” what I really meant was, “I don’t want to be the only competent parent.”
I didn’t want to be the mom who had to write a long-ass how-to manual explaining what our child needed to survive anytime I left the house.
My husband is an incredibly competent and present dad. He knows our daughter and how to care for her.
But am I the primary parent? Absolutely.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Being the primary parent doesn’t feel like something that was dumped onto me by default. It is a role I adore and have actively leaned into because I genuinely want it this way. And I’m so grateful to have the luxury of choice.
More on that in this essay:
I said this to my husband after meeting up with one of my besties when she was about three weeks postpartum.
We sat at a cafe together talking for nearly four hours while her newborn was at home, safe and happy with Dad. I was in awe! This exact coffee date was a huge turning point for me. Seeing my friend thriving on the other side gave me so much comfort and confidence to think, Yes, I can do this. Everything will be okay. I can have a baby and still be me.
And yes, I am still me. Just in a very different way than I imagined.
Pre-mom me was so hellbent on figuring out how to “get my life back” as quickly as possible. I was worried about losing myself.
What I understand now is that a feeding method isn’t a shortcut to getting your old life back. The physical logistics may look different from one family to another, but mentally and emotionally, we are aaaall in it. We all have a baby whose needs and adorable lil face have forever entered the group chat of our brains.
It was never really about formula or breastfeeding. I simply hadn’t considered that I might invite motherhood to change me. That I might not be racing to return to the exact life I had before. That some of my priorities would be rearranged or straight-up deleted... because I no longer wanted the same things.
And how could I have known?
I didn’t expect breastfeeding to work out for me. Or that I’d come to cherish it as much as I have and that it would become such a meaningful part of my relationship with my daughter. I also didn’t anticipate how much comfort it would be bring when she was tired, sick, overwhelmed, teething, or simply wanting closeness… and it would become the tool woven into our nights, our naps, and the flow of our days.
And now here I am, two years later, still on this breastfeeding journey feeling so proud of us.
I saw someone I knew take a solo trip around that time, and I remember thinking, Oh my gosh, cool! I want to do that too.
Okay, but the thing is… I didn’t even enjoy solo travel before I was a mom.
My brain just decided that taking a trip alone would prove I still had my autonomy. Solo-tripping would be my golden opportunity to pour back into myself and return feeling refreshed!
I conveniently disregarded that this is not how I would personally choose to pour back into myself.
I want my husband to experience cool places with me. I want someone to turn to when I eat something delicious or see something beautiful. Otherwise, I’m basically paying to miss my family in a different zip code.
I had copy pasta-ed someone else’s idea of independence into my own imaginary postpartum plan and it wasn’t for me.
Side note: my husband was 100% in support of the idea back then and still is if that was what I really wanted.
What I understand now is that distance from my baby isn’t the only way to get back some autonomy. Forget the fact that there’s nothing to prove in the first place. And staying close to your baby isn’t a failure. For many of us, it may be what feels the most healing and the most nourishing at this point in time.
So much of the internet praises distance and independence, and instead I found that closeness and attachment were exactly where I was meant to be. I don’t need to rush it. I don’t have to perform. I don’t have to force separation.
I didn’t have much autonomy for the first year and a half. I was feeding on demand day and night. I never introduced a bottle. She wanted to be held, worn, nursed, and near me almost constantly.
Babies are not meant to be convenient.
My baby was (and still is) a full-on velcro baby. And I am a full-on velcro mom. We are very much attached at the hip.
I still want breaks, of course. I want a long shower, a workout, a massage, a date with my husband, an uninterrupted writing session…
But I don’t want those things because I need to prove I can leave her.
All of this is to say, I’m glad I stayed open enough to let my motherhood journey unfold as it did… and to continue to let it surprise me.
My expectations vs. reality look so different than how I thought it would be, and yet it feels completely me.
What about you? What are some things you never thought you would do or things you said that are completely different than how you are now?
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