You asked me what I appreciated most from friends and family after the baby. This is my advice for a new mom.
You walk into your friend’s house, grab a laundry basket, and ask, “Clean or dirty?” She’ll answer “mostly clean,” and you dump it on her bed where she’s been camped out for a week. Fill it up with every other towel, sheet, item of clothing from around the house, and start a load. Come back upstairs and have an adult conversation while folding and hanging up clothes. Coo at the sweet baby. (And please wash your hands before holding the sweet, perfect baby because each touch sends parents into an under-the-surface panic, even if they won’t admit it out loud.)
And ask about the birth story, if she wants to share it. She just went through a war. She probably wants to share it. Commend her. Tell her how amazing she is and what a natural mother she has become. Everyone she encounters, every article she reads, every doctor she visits, fills her with doubt.
Don’t let her doubt herself.
Don’t tell her scary stories about another baby that got hurt, tell her instead that the figs are now ripe, has she had any yet this year? And would she like some? They pair nicely with wine, which she can have too. Or an oatmeal stout that will even boost her milk supply.
And after the laundry has to go into the dryer, do a quick glance into the sink. What might take a guest 10 minutes takes a new mother an hour. Maybe two. Maybe all day. Return to see if baby needs a diaper change; she’ll insist on doing it herself, and if she does, ooh and aah in amazement at her mastery of cloth diapers/the disposable Velcro tabs/the diaper genie/the perfect basket into the trash can. Does that need taking out?
You may see simple kind acts of a load of laundry, some folding, a couple of cups in the dishwasher, and a quick run to the trash… And she sees three days of pain she doesn’t have to endure because her kind, kind friend helped her out.
Let her vent. Her in-laws have already asked about baby #2. Let her know it’s normal to bleed for three months and that she’s not dying. She will forget the pain; not that it existed, but that it will soften. At some point, she will be able to brush her hair. And it will all fall out, and she can shave half of it off, and only 5 people will say weird things, and everyone else will think she’s a badass. She is. Maybe she’d like nothing more than one of those Pinterest-worthy braids right now? Maybe she’d just like to sit on the porch swing.
My point is… Just be there; women need their friends to tell them they’re amazing. Their child is beautiful, loved, and totally worth the pain. It’s a little poetic that each time a new baby nurses, a mother’s body goes back to where it was, and with all the pain, one day something will shift and she will feel halfway to her former self, and slowly more until her jeans have buttons again and her smiles come more easily.
Imagine what her new baby will become. See what she has already become. Wonder who she looks like.
And, well, if all else fails—some fresh fruit, coffee (decaf and regular), oatmeal cookies, a bar of chocolate, some Colace, or a new pack of hair ties.
