Mr. Speaker, it's time for a little real talk. Pregnancy and childbirth has been a thing for a long time. Pregnancy is painted as a beautiful time where people glow and blossom. Well, the glow is sweat, Mr. Speaker, and the blossom is your cankles trying to fit into your flip-flops because your boots don't fit. Fast-forward past the undeniable beauty of weight gain, 10 months of morning sickness, and half a year of cute toes playing xylophone on your ribcage, and you arrive at the big day. With the luxury of a nurse in the family, I laboured at home until the 11th hour, and then I hurried to Stanton. I waddled up to the desk, my husband rushing me, then 40 hours later, I got to push. I spent three-and-a-half hours trying to evict a child that held firmly to my insides and, on 6/6/06, at six minutes to the hour, I became a mother for the first time.
Whew, the hard part is done. Right, Mr. Speaker? Oh, no. The fun has just begun. You are passed a squishy, tiny human and told not to lift anything. You assume breastfeeding is natural and, therefore, easy. Within days, your nipples are cracked and bleeding; sleep is as elusive as Bigfoot; your body is doing things no one warned you about; and if you are lucky enough to have a supportive partner, they aren't really that useful because no one cares about their nipples. Then, there are the tears, and I'm not talking about the baby's tears. No. You cry because you're happy; you cry because you're sad; you cry because the sun is shining; and sometimes, you cry because your partner is snoring and their nipples are still useless. Beyond sorting out some form of feeding and healing your body, there is sleep deprivation, relationship changes, post-partum blues, and trying not to send yourself over the edge keeping up with the Super Mom social media posts from down the block.
Welcome, Mr. Speaker, to the fourth trimester. We spend months planning for a baby, but those plans rarely include the mother's health, safety, and recovery. The what-to-buy list includes an exhaustive amount of baby stuff, but nowhere does it say to put a friend in charge of daily check-ins, buy granny panties, and buy fibre pills. For the love of God, buy the fibre pills.
Don't get me wrong. I would do it again. We can finally laugh at the chaos and high-five that we survived, but it doesn't mean we can't evolve how we support and care for new mothers. This is real life, and real is compassionate, honest, and kind. To the new moms, it will get easier. You will be able to sit again, and you will bond, but as you tumble dry through the fourth trimester, be kind to yourself. Eat, sleep, feed the baby, and be kind to yourself. Thank you, Mr. Speaker.