First Year Baby Blues.

by Vicki Larson


As a woman of a “certain age,” I’m much more often in the company of those who are facing marital discord and divorce or hopes of finding love at midlife than those who are giddily walking down in the aisle in white satin and lace (for the first time, that is) and entering the pastel pink-blue world of babies (ditto).


So it has been interesting to watch the handful of 20- and 30-somethings I know who have taken the plunge into matrimony and parenthood in the past year.


Now, as a twice-divorced middle-aged mother of two teenagers, there are a few things I could tell them. Actually, there’s a lot I could tell — including a somewhat tongue-in-cheek, “Don’t!” But, if nothing else, you don’t get to a “certain age” without learning this: 20- and 30-something newlyweds and new parents don’t want to hear what their been there-done-that elders have to say.


I don’t blame them; I didn’t want to listen, either.


“Things are different now,” they say, and they’re right. Fathers are much more hands-on at home, mothers are more likely to be equal financial partners if not breadwinners, families often don’t look anything like the ones of the not-so-distant past: stay-at-home mom, career-path dad, 2.5 kids, dog, the house with the white picket fence in suburbia. You wouldn’t see a movie like “The Kids Are All Right” being made — not to mention anyone interested in seeing it — a decade or two ago.


But no matter what we look like now, where we live, whatever variation of family we are, one thing seems to be pretty much constant — that first year as a parent.


Nothing quite prepares us for that.




It’s been so long since there was a baby in my house — my “baby” is almost 17, and at 6-foot-2 towers over me even in my highest heels — you might think that his first year would be a blur. It was at the time; sleep deprivation will do that to a person. But when I recently visited a friend whose baby is less than a year old, it all came back to me in vivid detail.


She’d gone back to work part time and had the perfect family arrangement to watch her on-the-cusp-of walking baby. And she’d lost almost all of the tiny bit of “baby fat” she’d gained, making her look as feminine and sexy as ever.


What wasn’t back to normal was her libido. In fact, it was AWOL, and she doesn’t seem to mind all that much. Her husband, however, has other ideas.


It’s a familiar pattern; numerous studies have shown that most new parents believe baby’s first year wasn’t all that great, especially on their marriage.


I know I sure felt that way.


It wasn’t as if I was oblivious to it all. I’d done my share of reading and I’d heard first-year baby stories from friends just as I’d heard their labor horror stories while I was pregnant. But like most moms-to-be, I approached motherhood with a brazen cockiness — “I will be different!”


Yeah, well, not quite.



I still harbor bitter regret in having sex after getting the green light from my OB. I didn't really want to, so why did I? Maybe it's just my high horse, but why the rush to post baby sex? Why is this the mother's problem? Why not chemically repress daddy-dearest's desires for an indefinite period, and let mama adjust? It seems like an obvious biological imperative to not have back-to-back pregnancies. Breastfeeding aside, that's an enormous physical toll taken on a woman's body! Bond with your baby, rest, figure out routines, calm down. Worry about how sexy you are when you get around to it. Your baby doesn't give a damn. Your husband shouldn't either. If he's not your husband, his opinion doesn't matter anyways. Take care of you and yours, the rest will follow in its own time.