5 Revelations of a “MEternity Leave”
So it seems we’re all weighing in on the concept of “MEternity leave” lately. Thank you to the powers that be for blessing us with this kind of nonsense to comment on daily. ‘MERICA!
Can I just.. pipe in real quick before I jest with you here?
Maternity leave, while a precious and special time to bond with your new baby, is not ME TIME.
I had a coworker refer to my maternity leave as “vacation” once while I was pregnant and I thought I was going to jump through my computer screen and strangle that ignorant asshat. But he has friends on the outside..
Meghann Foye, the childless woman who wrote the essay on “MEternity” for the New York Post, believes in all seriousness that she is deserving of this “socially mandated time and space for self-reflection..”
Ha. Hahahaha.
Yes, she is for real. And no, she does not have sleep deprivation, severe blood loss, or hormones that took the year off to blame for this ridiculousness.
I figure that given the fact that I am currently in one of these highly sought after, “socially mandated” times of self-reflection, it would be selfish of me not to share some of my most life-changing revelations. Ya know, that have been born to me through these past 10 weeks of self-discovery and inward-focus.
(Because I did not endure 17.5 hours of unmedicated labor, childbirth, and watch helplessly while my baby breathed on a machine for 4 days to get here. To this. My ‘me’ time.. Lord.)
5 REVELATIONS OF MY ‘ME’TERNITY LEAVE
1. YOU GET TO NOT WORK. FOR FREE!
Dude. Did you know that vacations from life are free? For your employer. Like literally you get to not work for upwards of 12 weeks and no one pays you. Not Uncle Sam, not your mom. No one. You are free to embark on your 3 month journey of self-discovery with zero cents because as I’m sure you knew when you signed up for this, your bills will continue to pile up and like, ya know.. life goes on. SCORE!
2. RECOVERING FROM MAJOR BODILY TRAUMA WHILE CARING FOR A NEWBORN BABY IS TOTES DOABLE
Because healing from childbirth is a freakin’ walk in the park. Actually, it’s more like a hobble. No, maybe we’re gingerly sitting on the park bench. Wait, we’re at the effing PARK? No we’re not. We’re at home wearing a hole into that spot on the couch we’ve been sitting in for weeks. That we crawl out of only to pee as we wince in pain. This the life.
3. I CAN SUSTAIN HUMAN LIFE WITH MY BOOBS. AND NOW THEY COMPLETELY RUN MY LIFE.
Ok, so aside from the fact that I have to fend my husband off these things with a fire poker, their new [and improved] purpose in life is to feed the baby. And baby is BOSS. So when she says sit down and boob me, bitch. I listen. My new duo can also tell me what time it is. And if I’m not wearing a maxi pad in my bra, they’ll tell everyone else what time it is too. They need to be accessible at a moment’s notice, no longer fit in any of my old clothes, and the best part? Using them to feed my baby now earns me the prestigious honor of public shaming for being an attention-seeking, baby-feeding, boob monster. Staycation! Yay!
4. SHOWERS ARE 100% NOT NECESSARY
Look, we’ve all tried our hand at a little ‘hippy hygiene’ a few times. And frankly, with as long as it takes to get ready who can blame us? But on this fabulous leave from life, you get to NOT shower for days. DAYS. I’m talking you have forgotten how long it has been since you bathed. You kiss your dry shampoo bottle in the morning right before you sniff your armpits and comb your leg hair. But you have an excuse! You’re on the road of self-discovery! …and you haven’t left the house in weeks anyway so who cares!
5. THIS ISN’T ABOUT ME AT ALL
Perhaps the most compelling revelation of my mandatory “me time” is that it is not, in fact, about me at all. The axis of my world shifted when this tiny person came into existence and effectively rendered me insignificant. Her and that Maslow dude got together and decided that I was good for a select few things for the foreseeable future: her basic needs. What about me? …I’m sorry, who?
So there you have it. Revolutionary, I know. I’m off to do more “self-reflection” now. Perhaps today we’ll tackle how long I can wear the same sweatpants before I remember to change them. Or how to do my makeup while nursing? What’s my name again?
XO,
