Thus far, I have learned that new motherhood involves the following:
Gifts. Flowers (see above), clothes, blankets with tiny zoo animals on, food! Very welcome.
Unsolicited advice regarding newborn care circa 1948/1979/1981/1992, generally followed by shock that laying your baby to sleep on their front/drinking a pint of stout a day while breastfeeding/utilising lead-based paints in your nursery is generally discouraged by healthcare professionals these days.
Poo. Lots and lots of poo. Ditto pee, sick, drool and milk (oh god, milk is EVERYWHERE).
Sleepless nights (obviously).
A great deal of one-handed 1am, 4am and 6.30am internetting.
An intense urge to craft for the baby, but a severe lack of time in which to do so. P.S. Ooh, finished sunburst blanket!
Pride at very simple actions on the part of your infant. She sneezed! Clever girl! The confidence that your child is supremely advanced. Obviously, as she was born with hair and can already fart AND hiccup AT THE SAME TIME. Wonder if Mensa has a minimum age?
Fear. Sometimes bordering on blind panic that the most simple of your actions, or inactions, will damage your child in some horrific way. The baby hasn’t slept all night, is she poorly? Or scared? Panic. The baby has slept soundly for 5 hours straight, is she dead? Panic. She is feeding too much, she is not feeding enough, is that a spot or a rash? Etc.
Did I already say sleepless nights?
Joy in simple pleasures. Such as breakfast. Or taking a shower.