Sooooo amazing! Beautifully written, compelling, timely (notably, what happens to Lena) and so rich. Hope to return and write a proper review but justSooooo amazing! Beautifully written, compelling, timely (notably, what happens to Lena) and so rich. Hope to return and write a proper review but just want to recommend this far and wide in the meantime!...more
Just when you think parenting a small baby is a painful, lonely slog and you're riddled with suppressed anxiety about all the things you're (probably)Just when you think parenting a small baby is a painful, lonely slog and you're riddled with suppressed anxiety about all the things you're (probably) doing wrong, along comes the wise-cracking You Will (Probably) Survive: and other things they didn't tell you about motherhood. Lauren Dubois, previously a political journalist, is the author of popular, long-running blog The Thud, has written for several online parenting websites and has a podcast called The Motherhood. But in terms of being an expert, her credentials are the ones you just can't question: she's a mother to two small children, with a baby on the way. This is why the cover is so apt: Dubois is depicted in a 'Rosie the Riveter'
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costume and pose, emphasising both the hard, physical labour of growing, birthing and raising a child, and the need to acknowledge women's strength and to get help in this arduous, never-ending task. The two main messages I got from this book were "you are not alone" and "do what's right for you". Other messages - and it's the type of book where you'll 'hear' the message that you need to hear, because there are loads of potentials - include "Motherhood is a complete lack of control" and "women are bad-ass". I'm quite fond of that one.
If you have been an avid follower of her blog, some of the content will be familiar; I hadn't heard of her or her wildly popular blog until this new book popped up on my Instagram feed (I follow the publisher) so the content was all new to me. I've also become something of a Lauren Dubois fan: her Instagram feed is always entertaining. She has charisma, intelligence and the funnies, and she's speaking on a topic that is currently very close to me: parenthood. Specifically, motherhood. 'Motherhood' gets maligned quite a bit in our culture, there's always the whiff of dismissive condescension around mothers that goes way back (and is, no doubt, an important part of the patriarchy). Only other mothers celebrate motherhood, and then not always. It comes with expectations (other people's and your own), and isn't considered all that important in the big scheme of things because it doesn't make money (but capitalism still loves mothers: we buy a lot of shit). Most importantly, for the maligning of motherhood, it's not considered important enough to interest men - hence why novels about mothers (and there are lots of these) are patronised with the category "women's fiction".
This is a book I would love men to read. Just like I would love men to read romance aimed at women - how better to study what women really want than to read such fantasies? Likewise, how better to understand what women go through when they become mothers than to read You Will (Probably) Survive? This isn't a parenting manual, it doesn't instruct, it reflects, and Dubois does so with clear insight. There were chapters - particularly "Men can parent too?" and "The mental load" as well as the chapters on gender - that could have been plucked right out of my own head. And because of the conversational style of Dubois's writing, I was mentally nodding along, going "I know!! Right? Ugh, tell me about it!" throughout. I laughed and I cried, which is really what being a mother is all about: inherent contradiction. While there's plenty here that I haven't experienced - my firstborn, as a toddler, had tantrums only twice after learning it at a new daycare, he clearly wasn't that into it (though these days he can throw a good sulk!) - it's all so relatable, and you feel like you're part of a tribe. A tribe that was always there but never really acknowledged. Really, mothers need to get together in non-competitive ways more!
You Will (Probably) Survive is a smooth mix of celebration, astute social commentary and comforting reassurance. It is highly vindicating, and for that alone I would imagine mothers all over would enjoy this book. Dubois gives it to you straight and gets right to the heart of the complicated, contradictory soul of motherhood: that you can fiercely love your child while absolutely hating aspects of motherhood, and there's nothing wrong with that. In fact, when it comes to being a mother, that's not actually a contradiction, it's reality, and Dubois, simply by presenting this reality in her confident, ironic way, gives mothers permission to feel this without guilt. (Not that you can ever escape guilt, as a mother: par for the course). She also taught me about matrescence, and I'm all for society adopting this. Matrescence is a woman's journey into motherhood, like how children have 'adolescence', their journey into adulthood (p.107). Because while you become a mother when your baby is born, "the transition to 'Mum' takes a little longer." (p.106)
When a baby is born, we celebrate the baby. This little life, so new to the world, is loved and cherished by all.
But we don't celebrate the other birth - the birth of the mother. We don't gather around and hold that woman in our arms and let her know how special she is and how loved she'll be through this journey. We don't comfort and calm her. We don't even speak to her about this massive change in her life. We just carry on like nothing has happened and expect her to do the same.
But something has happened. Something huge. Something magnificent. Something confusing and isolating - which is bizarre, given it's so common. Every day, more and more women enter their matrescence and yet most people don't even know this metamorphosis has a name. (p.107)
Divided into four main sections, Dubois covers pregnancy, newborns, babyhood and the toddler years. There's a lot about exhaustion, and even more about poo - and the stench of babies' hands. She covers how'first time mums' get patronised and reassures with "you are not a moron. You're not hysterical. [...] You deserve a second opinion" (p.151) and not to be gaslighted (gaslit?) by doctors and nurses. There are experiences here that I didn't have, with either pregnancy (like, I never got 'linea nigra'), and other things that I was surprised she didn't mention, like hemorrhoids (from all the pushing). I loved what she wrote about caesarian sections - after an emergency c-section with my first baby, I opted for an elective the second time around and it was no less hard. Dubois acknowledges this in a chapter that made me cry, it was like she'd been there with me and seen how close I came to panicking:
"Being sliced open on a cold table while you're awake isn't the fun little procedure you might think it is. It's not a simple slice, dice and out-comes-the-baby. It's rough and physical, and the pushing and pulling will make you feel like you're about to fall right off the table as they rummage around in your insides to pull that fat little bundle out of a too-small incision. It can be scary and confronting [...]" (p87)
Dubois never leaves you feeling that way though; she quickly follows up with a big warm hug:
But it's important to know that this can be just as special and overwhelming as a vaginal birth. You don't miss out on the magic just because you're not pushing the baby out. This is still the miracle of life happening before your eyes. Giving birth is giving birth, no matter which exit the baby takes. (p.87)
This is an immensely quotable book (as in, the whole book is quotable), and while it's not a manual there is advice - the reassuring kind, the kind that reminds you that your instincts are good - embedded throughout:
Most parents will, at some point, fall down the rabbit hole of sleep advice and once you're down there, you may never come out. Everything you read will convince you that you are setting your child up for failure. The rocking is wrong. The cuddling is wrong. The feeding to sleep is wrong. Touching is wrong. Even looking your child in the eyes is wrong because it's 'stimulating', which is really, really wrong. You might as well let them snort a line of coke for all that stimulation you're throwing at them. Meanwhile, all you want to do is hold your baby. [...]
You will lose your mother-loving mind if you keep trying to ignore your instincts. Your whole body will ache with wanting to pick up and soothe your baby when he needs it. It will feel so idiotic to wake your baby who has fallen asleep while feeding, just so you can put him down to sleep again. Why would you do that? Because someone on the internet told you to? Because some woman in your mother's group gave you the side-eye when you said you feed your baby to sleep? Because Great Aunt Barbara told you babies will be spoilt if you hold them all the time?
We need to stop driving new mums insane with all the sleep advice. We need to support mums to do whatever helps them get through the days. If everyone's getting some sleep, celebrate that. It is not a problem unless it's a problem for you. (p.129-30)
She emphasises the importance of doing what's right for you and not feeling guilty about it. Considering all the ways in which motherhood is pretty awful, it's important to enjoy the parts that you love and not agonise over whether it's 'wrong'. Not to mention the fact that what works for one baby isn't necessarily going to work for another.
Considering that I'm at home with a four-month-old baby, my brain is sludge and I've been riddled with anxiety since before she was born (and yes, I did get help - as Lauren (I need to call her Lauren, no matter the etiquette, because she's been such a real voice in my ear over the last few days) says, "You deserve to have some peace." [p.56]), this was the perfect book for me. It's highly entertaining, often funny, definitely reassuring and hugely vindicating - and yes, it deserves all those adverbs! Structured in small chapters, like blog posts, it's also ideal for a life with constant distractions and interruptions. I would happily recommend it even if you have older kids, or you've never had kids but would like to understand - and then sympathise. Because motherhood is often thankless, a lot of it is invisible, and it's exhausting to your very cells (literally: I read that women's cells age a couple of years for every child they have!). I'm rather sad to have finished this book, but since Lauren has such a strong online/social media presence, and a third child on the way, it's far from the end of the story!...more
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