Runners, on your mark...

So moving to a new town means meeting new people, which had me thinking about my first foray into making mom-friends.  Hind sight is 20/20 I realize, but I was thinking about how having your first baby is a great equalizer.  It doesn't matter if you were a butcher, a baker, or candle stick maker.  (or a lawyer, a government employee, or teacher) Everyone is on an even playing field - usually first time moms, first time kids, nobody quite knows what they're doing, and thats ok.  Because usually, you are too busy and tired to know that the mom next to you doesn't know a diaper rash from a yeast infection either.  She's most likely taken her infant to the doctor with what she's sure is Scarlet Fever only to be told its heat rash, and honestly Mrs. Newmom, your baby doesn't need a onesie and socks under the flannel pjs and blanket bag, because, well, its July. 

When my oldest was a few weeks old he had a Serious Circulation Problem (in caps because it was an awful disease).  No matter what I did, no matter how many blankets I wrapped him in, his fingers were cold, and I swear, blue.  So, after a sleepless night of hovering over my terribly sick newborn, and was too much internet medical research (leading to me believe that my pediatrician doesn't know anything and why didn't I become a doctor because I am WAY more capable of figuring out that he has a liver problem that has lead to a heart infection, which - combined with his obvious lung obstruction and brain tumor - has caused is this Serious Circulation Problem.)  

So, of course, I called my sister.  She had four kids under her belt by this time and what I consider to be the love child of Dr. Spock and Madam Curie.  She suggested I put a hat on him.  Huh.  A hat.  And...that was that.  Fingers warm and pink within thirty minutes.  Who.  Knew.  

In my (weak) defense, I had put hats on him, but stopped doing it because somehow the thing would always end-up sliding down and covering his face, which, I'm sure you know, babies do not like.  So I stopped the cute little hats - but - guess which hat was perfect - the only hat that ever fit my newborns perfectly everytime without the threat of suffocation.  The lovely stocking hat they gave them in the hospital.  The one that was tied on the end with a curling ribbon you use to wrap packages, which I guess is appropriate.  So I guess those hospital-types actually do know what they're doing, they just have no sense of style.  

Sorry - back to original thought now...

When the doctor put my first child on my chest, looking like he's just been exercised through the bathroom ceiling like Carolann in poltorgist and making lottle wimpering noises (not unlike the wimpering I was doing), my very first thought -honestly - was "Now What?"  You're just giving him to me?  I don't think my child birth class (which the only thing I took from was my love of Crystal Lite that they served at every class), and a baby shower really qualified me to take this thing home.  It was the new mothers group that saved me.  A bunch of really tired woman sitting on the floor in ill-fitting clothing covered in spit-up, and having really bad hair days.  This was not a beauty contest.  Well, ok, the babies were usually dressed to the nines when they came in - my oh my how priorities change.  I remember that I wanted to cry, I was never so happy to see a room full of miserable people in my life.  

No one talked about what they did pre-child, no one bragged about how advanced their baby was, come to think of it, no one really formed full sentences, and that was just fine.  The group leader was a nice woman with a soothing voice and instantly made you want to ask her if she minded if you lied down and put your head in her lap (feel free to play with my hair or rub my back), while she talked.   But, looking around the room, you know everyone was thinking the same thing - can I go to sleep?  And,  by the way,  if Captain Loud talker sitting next to me doesn't bring her voice down an octive she will wake my baby up, and I will be forced to open a can of whoop-ass on her right here in front of all these people. Yet, even though the new mom sitting across the room was a police woman, I think she would have had my back, as would the new mom scientist next to her.  I like an even playing field and misery loves company.