Vicki Lovine - The Girlfriends’ Guide to Surviving the First Year of Motherhood

L ast night, in that supportive way that children can have, one of my own asked mopingly, Mom, when are you going to stop all this writing so that you can be with us? Since I work in our house, I asked her what she wished I was more available to do. She said, Drive car pool every day, mornings and afternoons, and watch all of my dance and gymnastics classes instead of just dropping me off. Well, my little babies, Mommy is back behind the wheel. I know that I took a lot of time away from us to write this book, but you were very sweet and generous about it. I just hope that all four of you grow up to find something in your life you enjoy as much as I enjoy this. I love you all soooo much, and I promise to take you to Chuck E. Cheeses real soon.

To the best, funniest, most loving and understanding man in the world, my husband, Jimmy: Thanks for letting me renegotiate our parenting agreement and for taking over the tap dance and baby gym duties. I owe you a t-ball practice and a spring sing. I promise I will now try to honor our No Working on Weekends pledge, no matter how much my computer flashes at me. Most of all, I love you madly. Oh, yeah, and I promise not to get pregnant again or buy a new puppy without consulting you first.

To Ray Manzella, who has been such a good friend for so many years, who helped me see what I could accomplish and who, in spite of being a handsome manly-man kind of guy, could almost be a Girlfriend. Thank you for giving me the glasses to see whats on the horizon.

To the folks at Putnam Berkley Books, and especially Phyllis Grann and Chris Pepe: From the moment I walked into your offices and met you, I knew that I was home. Phyllis, I want to be you when I grow up! And Chris, I want to watch you keep bringing those beautiful babies into the world! Thanks to you both for looking after me so well, and, Chris, allow me to be the first to use the word wunderkind in writing to describe you and your talent. (P.S.: Now that we have gotten the writing out of the way, lets go hang out and sip martinis at the Four Seasons.)

To Jody-Girl, thanks for being here for me every day, for being here for my kids and their friends, for being here for all repairmen, baseball coaches and karate and piano teachers, and thanks for listening to me moan every afternoon when I cant think of one more thing to write. Our family is your family.

To my Girlfriends, and you know who you are: Thank you for teaching me over and over again that the good times are better shared with friends, and the hard times are bearable (sometimes even hysterically funny) when shared with friends, especially when the friends are such extraordinary women as you. I love you guys.

H ere it is, YOUR BABY! And here you are, A MOTHER! Its enough to take your breath away. A real, honest-to-goodness miracle has occurred in your life, the greatest event you will ever experience (even if you are still a little too sore and tired to believe me right now). Sure, people have had babies before, but that doesnt diminish by one watt the awe and humility you feel when it happens to you. Nobody ever said that meeting an angel is less heavenly because its happened before.

Congratulations!

We Girlfriends have been hovering around, waiting for this moment when we could all crowd in and welcome your little darling. We promise not to touch or breathe on her! Youre right, she is the most beautiful baby we have ever seen! You look pretty good yourselfmaybe a little puffy eyed, but nothing time wont fix. So, now that the baby is here, the hard work is over, right?

Why? you screech. Why didnt we tell you about what its really like to have a baby? Well, first of all, we knew you wouldnt have believed us, and second, we didnt want to scare you. All prospective mothers, whether pregnant or adopting or ordering through a catalogue, carry in their hearts a rosy picture of motherhood. Theyve been perfecting it and polishing it since they were little girls: a sort of composite of the mothering they received, the mothering they wished theyd received and a large helping of too much television. Odds are good that the rosy picture didnt include the stitches, bruises, sore bones, broken capillaries and God help you. And I guess its safe to assume you didnt know thered be so much leaking, either. Theres milk or colostrum coming from your breasts, some bloody horror from your vagina and probably lots of tears, from joy and fear (often simultaneously), dripping from your eyes. Hanging over everything like a fog is the nagging suspicion (which, by the way, is correct) that life as you knew it is over.

All through your pregnancy, you assumed that gestation was a nine (ten)-month experience of life in a parallel universe, but that you would reenter the real world upon delivery. Now is the time for those of us who love you (and who know better) to let you know the truth. Normal, as you knew it, is gone. Poof! Out the window! Think of it this way: Having a baby is like entering a carnival fun house, except this fun house is your new home. Its a thrilling adventure, even if you do look a little distorted in all the mirrors, you have no sense of direction and have to feel your way along in the dark, and even if every once in a while something pops up that you didnt expect and scares the heck out of you. You can fight it by running around looking for the exit or you can just exhale and remember, life is a carnival, old chum. This first year of motherhood is a lot about making yourself comfortable in your new home.