Get pregnant. To do this you need to have sex in about 400 different positions over the span of 1-100 months. Cry at every negative test, tell everyone it will never happen and then cry again when it eventually does. Act genuinely surprised it happened even though you’ve sexed it up for months. ‘I can’t believe I’m really pregnant‘ – said every mum every time.
Take 40 weeks of: Insomnia, constipation and/or the shits, vomiting 24/7, fuller thicker hair you don’t give a fuck about by week 41 (it happens), forget what your feet even look like, wear flip flops for your whale feet, hope that your lady bush doesn’t look like Art Garfunkel, punch the next person who asks if you are having twins in the throat.
Do birth. This takes many forms, drugs, no drugs, (saying no drugs then begging for drugs), doing it in the water like an Orca, doing it lying down like a turtle, having an epidural and just using random muscles you aren’t sure you have anymore, gas and air so much your head spins, having to evacuate through the sun-roof, tearing your self open from one bit to another. However it happens, it’s birth. Well done.
Feed it. There are two ways to do with this till about 6 months. Get your boob and shove it in there. Get a bottle and stand waiting for it too cool, then shove it in there.
Clean it. The first few tar poos are something that really we can’t avoid. It’s like trying to get warm blutack off a wall, fucking horrendous. After that they go every where you can imagine. There will be so many kinds of poo you haven’t dealt with in your life yet. Clean them all.
Don’t drop it. Self explanatory.
Show it too people. Here, look what I made with some egg and some sperm! Gently pass it to the 100’s of people who have popped up out of nowhere to sniff your amniotic smelling baby bundle (if you can bottle that smell you’d be doing us all a favour).
Teach it stuff. ‘A is for alcohol, lots and lots for mummy’ ‘B is for bed where mummy wants to be’ & ‘C is for chocolate, going to shove it in my face forever’.
Do stuff with it. Go to the zoo and point at all the animals, go to a baby Mozart concert, then Facebook about your day so everyone knows how attentive and cultured you are as a parent. *See photo above as example*
Hug it. Sometimes it might fall over, sometimes it might be tired, sometimes it might not know what it wants. Hug it.
Find a tribe. Now you have birthed, you might like to find a group of women who have also birthed to discuss things like poo, sleep and schooling with, no one else will give a fuck as much as these people will give fucks.
Don’t eat it. You can’t, it’s not meaty enough for a decent meal.
Don’t draw on it (well not when it’s little anyway). You also cannot expect it to remember things for you and apparently people don;t like it when you use them as excuse (don’t let this stop you though).
Put clothing on it. You know when you took hours picking outfits with zips, bells, whistles, sparkly bits, ribbons and shit? Put it all in a pile for when you have to do number 7. The rest of the time vests and sleep suits will do – honestly, keep it simple.
Love it. This is not always as easy as it sounds, sometimes you are too tired to even love yourself, but have a go anyway.