Expectations, planning, and suffering

Thoughts on planning and letting go of expectations

It’s been awhile since my last post. I was making way through the last stretch of a tiring pregnancy. I’m excited to share that everything went smoothly and we’re now settling into this post-partum newborn life. I’ve been trying to navigate two desires that seem to be in tension, but possibly are not: the desire to let go of deeply engrained ideas of productivity and the feeling that I should publish something because I haven’t in awhile, and the desire to let myself be pulled into writing when I feel like it because I know that writing is something that helps me feel nourished and more like myself. It’s a hard balance to navigate sometimes, on top of the relentless 2-3 hour newborn eat, poop, sleep schedule. We’ll see how it goes.

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Mother’s Day visit to the Berkeley Rose Garden

When my husband Naveed and I were preparing for this post-partum period, I told him that I remembered the newborn period as being really peaceful and connective, and that it would be really nice to have just us and the kids at home, settling into our new family life together.

In the weeks leading up to my due date, as I recounted this expectation to a few friends (some who very recently had babies), more than one person burst out laughing. Which is when I realized that my expectation of this period was perhaps meaningfully warped by the passage of time as well as the evolutionary need for humans to keep procreating by retrospectively viewing newborn care through rose-tinted glasses.

Lately, I’ve been mulling over what it looks like to have experience-based expectations that are helpful for planning, as well as letting go of those expectations and being open to how thing unfold. I guess you could say this is the pregnancy and post-partum version of Eisenhower’s famous quote: “plans are worthless, but planning is everything.”

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This postpartum period in some ways has been what I expected and in some ways not what I expected at all. This is my third baby, so it’s easy to fall into into the trap of thinking I know exactly what to expect. 

Some things are pretty much as I expected.

Based on previous experience, I had a clear expectation of what baby things we’d need. Over the course of my pregnancy, I mostly acquired everything we need for a baby’s first 6 months to a year of life, for free through Buy Nothing groups, or hand-me-downs from local cousins. Those expectations of what I would need and what was superfluous were helpful in planning, reducing waste and reusing short-lived items, and saving some money as well.

And some things were nothing like what I expected.

I expected that my labor would progress quickly since I wasn’t a first-timer: I assumed I’d go into labor, head to the hospital for an epidural, and spend the rest of my labor napping pain-free. So I was woefully unprepared when we were sent home not once but twice due to not being far enough along, and I had to endure an entire night and subsequent morning of painful contractions where I was doubled over on the floor every 3-4 minutes.

I also found that the larger the gap between my expectations and reality, the more suffering I endured.

Based on my previous pregnancies (8 and 11 years ago), I expected my first trimester to absolutely suck, for nausea to ease up around week 19, and then a second trimester energy boost. Nausea did thankfully subside as expected, but when my second trimester came and went and was still marked by fatigue, I was so frustrated. Dealing with that frustration on top of the already challenging fatigue was far more challenging than if I had been more open to a tiring second trimester.

So how do you simultaneously plan based on expectations from past experiences while also letting go of those expectations and being open to whatever may unfold?

Throughout the pregnancy, as I acquired baby items and prepped for this phase, Naveed and I felt the gap between our experiences. This would be my third baby, but his first. How would we not fall into the trap of my being the “baby expert” and him being the helper? It felt like I had done it before and would know everything already. But I kept reminding us that every baby is different, that it may be very different, that we’ve never been through it together before. And while some things about newborns are very much the same as they were a decade ago, this post-partum experience is also unique.

This is the first baby I’ve had in a two-story house (requiring a second diaper changing setup). We’ve had to learn together how and when to utilize new technology like the Snoo. This is the first time I’ve had a baby alongside older kids who can actually be helpful rather than require constant supervision. We are much more supported by our community of friends and family. And surprisingly, less than two weeks in, the gap between our experiences really feels barely there. He’s far better at soothing the baby, whereas I really only have one trick up my sleeve which is feeding the baby.

Even as I think about my return to work, as much as I planned ahead and carefully crafted a “while I’m out” doc and handed off my responsibilities to others, I am trying to stay unattached to what I return to. Both my previous leaves were during high growth startup periods, and I returned to companies that were very different than the ones I left at the beginning of my leave. I guess that’s my version of attempting to do my best at planning while also being open to what may unfold.

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Newborn life has been peaceful and connective. It’s also been chaotic, disconnecting, tedious, loving, boring, joyful, frustrating, and most of all, tiring. I know I’ll look back and miss these tiny blob days, but I still find myself wishing I could do more. I both want to let go of the pull of productivity (especially in writing) and know that letting myself be drawn to writing is one way to take care of myself as well. Tech and Tea posts may be sporadic and less polished during this period, as I experiment with what I post publicly.

I also want to acknowledge that while I have this time with plentiful nourishing food in the comfort and safety of my home, children and mothers in Gaza are being bombed and dying of starvation. I hope you (and I) continue to find ways to speak up against the ongoing atrocities.