They say that mothers forget the pain of childbirth, that God or nature encourages amnesia, so we will go at the yowling, doubled-over enterprise more than once. Well, I beg to differ. I recall with keen horror how crazy labour was, first with my daughter, and then with my son. What I did forget entirely, though, was the way a newborn makes you hit the ground running, sleep-deprived and witless, right out of the blocks. I forgot how newborn I was in the role of motherhood, and how little there was for me to go on.
I was reminded of this when I visited a friend and her baby in the hospital and saw the flutter of leaflets, coupons and free samples that surrounded her, lulling her into the belief that she was now equipped for the ensuing months.
"Oh, look!" I remarked wryly to my friend. "They've given you a week's supply of diapers. Isn't that going to bail you out of the monthlong panic attack and identity crisis you're about to have!" There are a few choice products that have yet to be invented that should be distributed on the maternity ward, instead. Here they are.
1. An automatic infant-translation device, specially designed to convert alarming and incomprehensible crying jags into the Queen's English. Red-faced babies could then be crisply interpreted as saying what they mean: "I'm wondering if you could remove my booties," or "Kindly carry me belly-down along your forearm, for that is my preferred position today." (Need help communicating with your baby? Read about talking with newborns.)
2. A portal to a parallel universe through which mothers can crawl to sleep for eight hours straight without anyone noticing.
3. A compendium of completely uniform advice, agreed upon by all the experts, with nary a contradiction in sight. It would come equipped with a laser weapon, so that any expert who materialized with an opposing view could be instantly zapped into oblivion.
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