Welcome, Gorgeous Mumma! - Let's get into it shall we? First, I'd like to thank you so much for buying this book, for two reasons. One, you invested in yourself and well-done that's mega! And two, I no doubt did a little happy dance, and you made my day because someone wants to read what I've written? How cool is that? So, thank you so much, you're amazing, and I love you.
Well, I assume you're a mother? Or at least know someone who is a mother; who has given you this book to read. Did they just tell you to ignore all the bitching about the children part and the descriptive whinges about how nothing looks the way it used to?
Anyway, for the most part, I'll assume you created life within you and kudos to you! How cool are you? But goodness, aren't you tired? You grew a tiny human who took 9 months (really 10, but let's not get into that argument). You had so much extra blood in you which causes havoc on its own, your hormones were racing, and new ones were coming to life, and you HAD A FRIGGEN HUMAN INSIDE YOU?! That blows my mind, to be honest. You were either a pregnant unicorn and had no issues at all, your skin was glowing, you looked amazing in anything and everything, and you just loved your whole pregnancy. No, really, I promise I'm not sticking my finger up at you and resenting you. Honestly, I'm so happy for you (not really, that's so not fair). Or you were like the majority of us, and you either had morning sickness (clearly a dickhead called it that, you are sick from the moment you wake up to the second you go to sleep and every time you smell anything remotely untasteful during the day), for the first 12 weeks or for the whole pregnancy like some really unlucky ladies (you are superhumans and the women who chance it and have more kids, wow you're amazing, or crazy, I'm not sure yet, jury is still out on that one). So any way you grew this human with all your might, no doubt your boobs are now huge, stomach at breaking point and a bunch of stretch marks everywhere (I call them tiger stripes because stretch marks are incredible, they show you, you grew life, oh and survived the whole ordeal like the lioness you are). You probably have a bunch of varicose veins that look like you have a bloody electrical plan for the entire damn city on your legs, how fun is that? No one warned me about all the joys that come with having a baby! And then you had to either get sliced open and a baby yanked out of you or you had to push an actual human out of burger ring sized canal (or you could have sneezed, and it popped right out like those pregnancy unicorns, screw them right?) oh and don't even get me started on how incredibly invasive the whole ordeal is! I can't even remember how many people saw my lady bits the day I birthed my daughter. But that's a story for another day. And then after 9 (10) months of exhaustion, vomiting, sweating, basically just being a whale that everyone wants to touch and compliment even though we know they are lying (' oh Hunny you are glowing' no darl, that's sweat from vomiting all morning and being 37 weeks pregnant in the middle of an Australian summer. Whose bright idea was that?). We are then expected to get a photo with our new baby, looking like none of that shit just happened and post it on 'the gram' so everyone can see our new bundle of joy covered in blood and guts. Then you're all alone, expected to look after this new beautiful baby in which NONE of the pregnancy books told you what happens after you poop yourself in front of 4 midwives, and the baby pops out? No clue. Oh, sorry, your baby is already a week old now? When are you getting back to the gym? Bet you can't wait for you to 'get your body back,' oh, are you really going to put that on her? No, you shouldn't do this, that and blah blah blah. Welcome to motherhood, sweetheart. It's one messed up ordeal. But you'll survive if you learn to put yourself first, and that's why we are here. Welcome, and let's do this!