The mommy list

When I was pregnant people would always tell me that life was about to irrevocably change. Sure, I said, but how? "I can't tell you, it's hard to explain," they said. But now that I've had a baby, I disagree. So here is my list of how life changes pre- to post-baby. Feel free to comment with criticisms or additions!



- Whatever you’re doing is less important than the baby. Whether it’s the last paragraph of a book you’re reading, or in the middle of sorting laundry, or whatever, you have to drop everything when the baby cries. To your surprise you find that this is only sometimes frustrating. Most of the time it is strangely fulfilling.

- You will always be late when going somewhere, even if you prided yourself on being on time before the baby was born. And you won’t mind it, because the lateness is related to meeting the baby’s needs: s/he will always need a diaper change or want to nurse the moment you finish adjusting the car seat straps.

- You schedule social events based on the baby’s nap and cranky times.

- Your pets, who had been your babies before, become mere pets. They’re still adorable and lovable and are your babies’ brothers or sisters…but you only have one “babeleh” now, and it doesn’t have fur.

- Your house becomes imminently messier. And it bugs you to death, but you have to let some things go, and housekeeping is one of them.

- The things that have always been of paramount importance in your life – dreams, hopes, whatever – will go on the back burner in light of the baby's presence in your life (I.e. I still want to be a rabbi, but I don’t mind so much now if it takes three more years instead of two).

- You will never again watch a rented movie without at least three interruptions.

- You always hated those people who had children and then only talked about baby things, but then you find that you’ve become one of them. You have to work hard to have a conversation about anything else. And it doesn’t bother you as much as you think it should.

- You find it possible to have various conflicting emotions at once: loving the baby in your life while wanting your old life back. Loving your partner for taking care of the baby, but wanting your partner to put the baby down and pay attention to you. Wanting to stay home with the baby forever, but wanting to go back to work/school/un-baby things. Being frustrated with the baby's helplessness while loving it for that very dependence. And you feel all these at the exact same time.

- The biggest act of service your partner can provide for you becomes something like changing a diaper at midnight.

- You will almost never finish a meal with the food still hot, and you will always be the last one eating.

- Your friendships morph into two distinct categories: those with kids and those without kids. You are still close to people in the no-kids category, but you also find yourself seeking out new communities and relationships to help you adjust to this new part of your life.

- Bodily functions cease to gross you out.

- If the baby is a morning person, you become a morning person. No matter how unlikely that may seem before the child's birth.

- You start to see the world in a whole new way, whether it be politics or the environment or the food you eat. All it is now filtered through the lens of how does this affect my child? What will s/he inherit?

- You consciously think of your own childhood much more often, so that you can either duplicate your parents' successes or avoid their mistakes.

- Free time becomes precious. You horde it. Child-free emailing or blog posting restores your soul in a way that you never before could have imagined.

- You become adept at doing most tasks one-handed.

- You are ALWAYS tired. Make that exhausted. It's not that the baby doesn't sleep; it's that you can't sleep in small increments like he or she does and feel rested. And when you are awake, general tiredness means you often can't think clearly and do the things you wanted, even when you do have the time.

- You find that you have less to say to your partner at night. Interesting things have gone on, and you want to share, but you've also been keeping up a running monologue to the baby all day and you're tired of talking.

- Washcloths, which you never really thought about before, all of a sudden take on prime importance as you discover their nuances and myriad uses.

- You live through someone else's emotions. The baby's smile makes your day. The baby's pain feels like your own.

- And last but not least, you love in an entirely new way. Not like for a friend, or a parent, or a partner. It's a unique type of eros that you've never before experienced. You would do anything for your child without so much as blinking. You just... love. Unconditionally. And in this case, you must admit, you honestly can't explain why, or tell someone without children what it feels like. It just... is. And it's beautiful.