Parenthood is abrupt and total.
When I went to the hospital, I understood that I’d be sent home with a vulnerable being who would require constant care, but it was impossible to prepare for what that actually felt like.
I’d loved being in the maternity ward, a leisurely four nights thanks to a C-section and a few complications, where I was surrounded by perky and competent nurses who took care of me and my baby, checking my bandages and bringing me ice and answering my questions.
(I had a lot of questions.)
“If she doesn’t want to eat, is that okay?”
“What does that raspy noise mean?”
“Her lower lip keeps quivering, is that okay?”
“Does she need to keep the hat on all the time?”
“How often should I change her diaper?”
When we were…