SFC

Brawny.  Beastly.  Brave.  Powerful.  Demanding.  Vigorous.  Competent.  Robust.  Fierce. Determined.  Aggressive.  Authoritative.  Forceful.  Triumphant.

Do any of the above words describe your favorite female character?  Maybe all of them?  What if none of the words describe her?  Is she still strong?

Readers, viewers and gamers - especially females - are almost assaulted with the phrase "strong female lead" (SFL).  It's even a Netflix category, at least in my account: "Period Dramas with a Strong Female Lead" or something like that.  Directors, producers and screenwriters are raked over the coals if their works don't feature enough "strong female leads".  People everywhere have "rediscovered" the Bechdel test and are applying it not only to new films but old favorites.  If you've never heard of this test, read the comic below.  It was originally written by an America cartoonist Allison Bechdel, waaaaaay back in 1985:

Image from wikipedia.org.

SFC #1: Diplomatic, intelligent, passionate,
self-sacrificial, determined.  Can handle firearms.
Image from starwars.com.

The thing is, a movie can still be "good" without passing the test.  It can even have an SFC without passing the test.  Two of my all-time favorite trilogies, the original "Star Wars" series and "Lord of the Rings", actually fail this test. However, they contain some of the most amazing, powerful, BA female characters in the realm of sci-fi/fantasy: Princess Leia, Arwen, Galadriel, and Eowyn.  I'd be hard-pressed to find someone who didn't consider these ladies strong characters.

But - wait a minute.

SCL #2: Wise, commanding, compassionate, noble.
 Likes coffee.  A lot.
Image from fanpop.com

What makes a character - in particular a female character - strong?  I mentioned this in my last post, specifically in regards to some of the characters in Once Upon a Time, but I didn't really explore it a lot.  I mean, who defines strength?  The words I used to open this post are all considered synonyms of "strong", but I don't know if they are all necessary for an SFC.  What makes an SFC?  What qualities does she have?  What qualities would make a female character weak?  Does it depend on her environment, the setting of the movie or book?  I don't think a lot of people would consider the lead characters in movies from the 30s, 40s, and 50s to be "modern" SFCs.  Maybe Scarlett O'Hara.  Maybe Cleopatra.  Maybe Gilda.  Are these women SFCs in our time period, or during their own, or not at all?  Can a woman who just wants to be loved be considered an SFC?  Could a stay-at-home-mom or chicken-roasting housewife be an SFC?  Why or why not?

SFC#3: Fierce, loyal, brave, devoted,
skilled.  Unlucky in love (at first.)
 Image from lotr.wikia.com.

We lay the contemporary definition of feminism on so thick when we adapt fairy tales and historical fiction and non-fiction that I think it's hard for us to see a lot of female leads from the past as "strong" by today's standards.  If they're not speaking up for themselves, or smashing the patriarchy, then they're meek and weak and awful role models.  Yes, that's a generalization, but let's see...everyone knows the Lizzie Bennett is the heroine of Pride and Prejudice, right?  She thinks for herself and expresses her own opinion and still ends up with the right guy in the end.  Swoon.  Her older sister, Jane, is gentle and soft-spoken, long-suffering and forgiving.  She struggles with the loss of her beloved, but chooses to carry on with her life.  Is she weak?  We would probably consider her to be, yes, because she doesn't actively fight for what she wants.  But when we remember the society in which she lives, we need to view her differently.  She truly wants to make her parents happy, and knows that all four of her not-always-obedient sisters have the potential to break her parents' hearts, embarrass the family, and bring lasting shame on their name.  To choose your family's reputation over your own happiness seems ludicrous to us today, but when her family's future was on the line, Jane was willing to quietly wade through sadness and disappointment in order to spare them embarrassment or worse.  Self-sacrifice can be a sign of strength.  We see Lizzie as strong, but some of that strength came from a selfish, proud place.  She didn't think twice about embarrassing other people, as long as she had the chance to speak her mind (we see Austen's Emma Woodhouse struggling with the same attitude).  

SFC #4: Confident, talented, devoted,
 loving.  Retains sense of humor despite danger.
 Image from comicrelated.com

Jessica Jones is the latest SFC to burst onto the Marvel/Netflix scene.  As her story unfurls, we learn that she is physically extremely strong - "gifted" - but deeply emotionally damaged due to severe sexual and mental abuse.  She has been diagnosed with PTSD and self-medicates with alcohol.  In my opinion, it would be more a show of strength to ask for help rather than to shut one's friends out of one's life - so I don't see her, at least early on - the same way I see Princess Leia, who, when we meet her, has already made sacrifice after sacrifice for the cause of peace, having found something to believe in.  Apples and oranges, maybe, but it's something to consider.  What kind of strong is the SFC?  Does she grow in strength as her story is told?  Does her kind of strength change?

  

I haven't watched Scandal, but from what I've read and heard about Olivia Pope, it's unlikely

SFC #5: Powerful, fearless, gifted, courageous.  Actually capable of
physically smashing the patriarchy.  Image from wordandfilm.com.

that I personally would admire her. From what I gather, she's dangerously manipulative, influential, and selfish.  (Please, fans of the show, correct me if I'm wrong!) I can't deny that she is a strong character, but it's interesting that "strong" doesn't necessarily mean "likable", "virtuous", or even "at least vaguely morally upright". 

It looks like I'm uncovering more questions than I have answers.  What do you think?  What makes a female character "strong"? How does her femininity, her sexuality, or anything else play into it?  Who are the SFCs that you admire?  Are there female characters you admire that you would not consider "strong"?  Why do you admire them?  If you can compare them to male characters with similar paths or personalities, what do you see?  How much of the SFC's environment contributes to your perception of her strength?

Does this feel like a Literary Analysis essay test yet?

Yes?  Then my work here is done.  Think on these things, friends.

Perception, Part 2: The Mirror Can't Talk

Yesterday, I shared some lessons I learned about perception: what others assume about a person or situation based on what they observe or are told.

Today, I want to talk about how we see ourselves.  And how it might change your life.

Recently, I became aware of Project Semicolon and its beautiful, ambitious, faith-based mission to decrease acts of suicide and self-harm among people dealing with depression and other mental health issues.  Although I've never explicitly dealt with depression, I've had some very dark pages in my life.  Had I made some different choices, I know that my life could be very different right now.  I also know that there is still a stigma surrounding mental health, especially among the Christian community.  There's this awful idea that it's "all in your head" and that you can "pray it away".  I'm not doubting that God heals.  Believe me, I'm one of those folks who enjoys tent revivals and healing meetings, and I've seen some pretty amazing stuff.

But.  BUT.

I also know enough to know that God works in many ways, and that some people's path to healing involves medication, treatment, therapy, a holistic approach and/or surgery. And maybe somethings else.

Friendship.

I say all of that to share a little experiment undertook last week.  I asked my social media friends - many of whom I am no longer close with in "real life" - to share their honest perception of me.  In a word, a phrase, a memory.  It wasn't a bid for flattery, though I admit I was hoping that some nice things would be said.  I heard back from about a dozen and a half people, ranging from family to folks I haven't seen in over a decade.  Their responses surprised me.

Yes, many of them said "nice" things, but what interested me the most was that no one said "Christian", "writer", "mom" or "plus-size" - the four words I find I use to describe myself all the time.  Other folks distilled their impressions of me into words like "real", "frank", "bubbly", and "accepting" (that one surprised me).  An old friend from high school relayed a few touching, nostalgic thoughts, but the phrase that stands out to me is "you took the high road".

That's weird, because I don't see myself that way.  Not really.  I'd use the words I mentioned above, and I'd add "selfish", "talented", "intelligent", "perceptive" and probably "articulate".  I'd add "needy", "introverted", "anxious", "hurting", "guilty" and "thoughtless".  
We are often our own worst critics.  Isn't that what they say?  In asking my friends this potentially loaded question, I learned that the way most of them perceive me is very, very different from the way I see myself.  

I realized that I want to live the way they see me.  Not the way I see myself.  They see in me light, and strength, and optimism.  I don't just want to be seen that way; I want to truly be that way.  I want to see myself that way.  Not only because those things are all good things, but because, as a Christian, I believe those things reflect Christ in me.  All of those attributes are not unique to religious people, of course, but, for me, they are an outward sign of inward hope.  

I didn't think that such a simple request on social media would impact me as much as this has.  I mentioned Project Semicolon earlier because I am hoping that anyone reading this - anyone struggling with self-harm or depression - might be encouraged by knowing how people see them.  That their lives matter.  That losing them really would make a negative impact on the world around them.  I'm not saying that hearing "I think you're special" is going to magically cure people of self-image issues.  But I know that those words have power, and positivity matters.  

From memeblender.com.

On a side note, one of my friends answered my question with the word "cats" and it made me laugh.  She was totally accurate, of course, and I know I've styled myself as a cat lady since Thor wound up on our doorstep, but yes, in a word, I suppose I can be described as "cat" - craving solitude, needy, faithful, somewhat critical, tending towards vanity, fun to curl up with (when I'm in the mood), and polarizing.

I like seafood, too.

#CATS.

Understanding Your Introverted Female Writer Friend

We're the ones that you can't fully comprehend.  Why in the name of all things holy would we decline a Saturday night party in favor of sitting at home with microwave popcorn and Netflix?  

Because people exhaust us, generally.  And because we prefer the ones living inside our own heads.

We are the ones driving to and from work, or school, or the grocery store, listening to the radio and applying the songs to scenes in the movie-versions of our manuscripts.  

We work out and choreograph fight scenes in our mind.

We have the capacity to be incredibly kind and conversational to the cashier at Target but only for like four minutes and then we want to be done with people.

We remember you as you were when you inspired us to create a character based on you.  Not how you are today.  Which may be very, very different.

We think about writing fanfic, or we have written fanfic, and we wonder if it damages our ability to be taken seriously as writers.

We see ads in fashion magazines and create entire backstories for the people featured in the images.

We play dress-up in the mirror, carefully applying lipstick we may never wear in public, to get into our characters' heads.

We sometimes loathe selfies but we hope that ours - the ones we do take - make us look both pretty and pensive.  Smart is sexy.

We're in multiple fandoms and we do not take issue with people who like both "Star Trek" and "Star Wars" but for God's sake, people, don't confuse one with the other.

When we are not actively working on a story, we are dreaming up situations for our characters, playing with their histories and their futures.  We are listening to playlists we have created for them, trying to get to know them well enough to do them justice in print.

We like coffee.  And cats.

If you give us coffee and cats, we might put you in a book.

As a nice person.  Like, the hero.









...or maybe this is all just me.

In Search of: BFFL

In high school, I had a bestie.  Her name was Christin, and we loved science fiction and Indiana Jones and comic books and I never felt like it was weird to be a nerd when I was with her.  We wrote fanfic before fanfic was even called fanfic, and we were inseparable.

Then college happened.  We went to different schools, had different majors, and drifted apart.  It might have been a good thing, if only for the fact that I wanted to reinvent myself (like many of us do) in college.  

"Reinvention" didn't amount to much.  I was still a chubby white girl with a geek streak, but I dressed a little more stylishly and figured out what to do with my long, wavy hair (product, product, PRODUUUUUUCT).  Still conservative, although less so, being among theatre people.  Still didn't drink.  Still didn't have sex.  Still got good grades.  I had a good circle of nerdy pals, though, being a double major in English and Theatre Performance.  Few of them really "got" me, though, because another large part of my identity was and is my faith, and most of them didn't understand or share that.  

I maintain (mostly online) friendships with a lot of my college buddies.  Some, I've become closer to.  Some, I respect more because of the way they have handled life's challenges since entering "the real world".  We've all grown a great deal since then, through marriages, careers, parenthood, divorce, losing family members, facing illness, financial troubles.  Frequently, I feel more connected to them now than I did back then.

After college came work, which, for me, was Starbucks.  I think it's safe to say that I've stayed closer with my former co-workers from the coffee shop than from any other part of my life (the exception being church).  I still see many of them fairly regularly, and I feel like I learned more about life from working there than I did anywhere else.  I learned about constructive criticism, customer service, finances, kindness.  I learned about prejudice and bias (yes, believe it or not I was on the receiving end of it more than once).  I learned about responsibility.  Leading others.  Time management.

And I learned that Colombian coffee is totally my fave.

In my group of friends, the ones who are most like me, at this point in my life, are those I met at South Hills Assembly's young adults group, The Bridge.  Through associations with the people there, I ended up meeting the man I eventually married.  I met like-minded people who are now parents, to whom I often turn to for advice.  These people, like me, sometimes struggle to reconcile their faith with the craziness in the world.  But we don't see each other that often.  We all go to different churches now, and some of us work. Most of us have moved away from the ten-mile radius in which we all used to live.  It's not easy to pack up kids and haul them to visit friends.  I'm not a phone person; I'd much rather text or meet in person.  It gets sort of lonely.  Even with a nearby and supportive family and extended church family, it does get lonely.

As an introvert, I'm generally happy to be by myself.  My hobbies are usually solo pursuits - writing, reading, sketching.  But spending all day entertaining a very curious baby can be exhausting, even if he IS a generally easy-going little guy.  It's isolating.  But it's a catch-22 for me, because meeting new people is equally exhausting.  (Especially since people THINK I'm an extrovert and miss my nonverbals that day "please - I need to go be alone right now!")  But when something amazing happens to me - or when I just need to vent, or get advice, I've realized - there's no one "go-to" person I contact.  Other than family.

I realized I don't have a best friend.

I do have friends.  They are wonderful.  My step-sister is incredible and mature and wise.  My stylist Jaime is an awesome mom and energetic adventurer.  My former co-worker Jordan is an outgoing, brilliantly confident woman and mother.  There are more, of course.  I have friends at church, too, but very few in my age bracket and family situation.  (That is to say, there are a lot of women with whom I am close, but very few are young moms/wives.)  They have supported me through struggles and celebrated with me during victories.  Maybe I don't need just one best friend.

But then I see those "bestie" posts on Buzzfeed and Pinterest and I'm all like, "I want that."

But then I see the pictures of doughnuts and bay windows and tabby kittens and retro-styled kitchens and I'm like, "I want that, too."

Best friend or freshly-baked cruller.  Which do I want more?  

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Postcard to the Past - A Letter to My 16-Year-Old Self

Your parents' divorce is one of the best things that could possibly happen to you.

Of course, it doesn't seem that way right now.  You're hurting and you feel betrayed by your dad.  Your mom is struggling to raise you and your sister alone.  The three of you never seem to get along.  It's awful.

But your new step-mother is not a wicked one.  You will both grow together - she as a more confident mother and you as a more mature daughter.  She will never try to replace your mom, and that is exactly how she will succeed at being one.

The little girl who "stole" your Daddy from you will grow into your best friend and confidante.  She will amaze you with wisdom that should be coming from a person much more experienced than she.  

You will be deeply hurt when your biological mother and sister cannot attend your wedding, but these women will stand in their places - not as substitutes, but as shining examples of love that binds where blood does not.

And yes - that means you will find the love of your life.  You will marry the man who loves you for who you are, who loves you because you are strong and you are a Christian and you are curvy and you like pickles and you can quote "Star Wars".  He is out there, and he is fumbling along, the same as you, asking God where you are and making tons of mistakes in the meantime.

Just like you.

Do you remember completing that survey in kindergarten?  The one that asked the question: What do you want to be when you grow up?  You answered: a mommy.  You changed your mind when your parents were divorced because you never wanted to put a child through the hell that you went through.  You will your mind again in college when you begin working with the little ones at church - which will be more fulfilling that you can imagine.

But the road to motherhood will be very difficult for you.  Your first pregnancy will be a surprise and, even though you will be happily married at the time, you will fight feelings of shock and guilt, because you didn't feel you were ready. When you lose the baby three months later, you will fight those same feelings, magnified a hundred times.  The good news is, you will have much support from your family and friends, particularly the women at church, because many of them have endured the same heartache.

You will find strength in your own words.  God will keep you fighting, and your words will be your weapon.  More than it ever has been, your writing will be your lifeline.  Expressing yourself will be the key to unlocking your own feelings and it will help you sort through your troubles.  It will also bless others who are traveling on the same road as you.

You will go on to lose two more children.  The second loss will be the hardest, because this child will be the only one whose heartbeat you actually get to see, a mere week before another ultrasound fails to find life in your womb.

You will be pressed hard, but you will not be crushed.  You will come close to giving up, but you will hold on to hope as your friends surround you, pray for you, encourage you and believe in you.

Your relationship with God will fluctuate, just as it does with your earthly companions.  Some days, you will feel distant from him, wondering why he is allowing you to walk this path.  Others, you will feel wrapped in his love and want to share it with boldness.  

Your relationship with your mother will be similar.  You will learn, much later in life, that you share many of the traits that you found irritating in her, but you will also learn that, in some ways, you are stronger than she is.

Was.

She will die unexpectedly, painfully, and you will find in yourself a silent strength that will carry you through the first few weeks, but you will begin to fall apart in the months that follow.  You will need to reach out to others because you will feel even more alone that you did during your miscarriages.  You will realize that your mother will not be alive when you finally do have your first child.  She will not bake you another birthday cake, or send you another silly letter with colored pencil doodles in it, or share another story about her many adopted pets.  

You will be there when she dies.  You will be the last family member she makes eye contact with, and that fact alone will sustain you in many dark hours.  She saw you.  She knew you came to her.  And she was deeply sorry.

About everything.

Not long after, you will have that little baby you prayed for.  The pregnancy will be fraught with challenges, which will be no surprise to you, but you will eventually hold a precious son in your arms and you will call him your joy and your promise.

Your church family will continue to grow in importance.  You will develop deeper relationships with some of the women than you ever had with your biological sister - who will, sadly, grow far apart from the family - and you will treasure them.  

You will have days which will scare you.  Days which will make you think you inherited your mother's anxiety.  Days which will make you think you are not cut out to be a mother, or a wife, or a friend.  You will have days that make you feel like a champion.  Days that make you believe you can do anything.

You will run a 5K, despite your lifelong challenges with asthma.

You will lose 20 pounds, despite your lifelong struggles with your weight.

You will have beloved pets of your own, despite your diagnosis of allergies.

You will be disappointed, despite your best plans.

You will be surprised, despite your worst fears.

You will keep going when everything in you cries out to lay down and die.

You will doubt yourself and hate yourself and love yourself and respect yourself.

You will live a lifetime and a half in the next sixteen years, and then you will gaze into the past with pity and envy and admiration for your sixteen-year-old self.

The last thing you will say before returning, in your mind, to the present, is:

It gets worse, but then it gets so much better.  It's always too soon to give up.

In Honor Of...

...the women with arms aching to hold a child.

...the men who haven't yet born the title of "Daddy".

...the children who weren't for this world.

...the victims who received that heart-stopping diagnosis.

I think it is fascinating that Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month is observed in October, at the same time as Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  Both miscarriage and breast cancer can leave a woman feeling deeply violated, less "feminine", and more vulnerable.  They attack the parts of our bodies that identify us as female: our wombs and our breasts.  There is a great deal more to being women than bras and babies, of course, but in the simplest sense, these two tragedies strike at the very heart of femininity.  I know that men can be and are affected by breast cancer and pregnancy loss as well, but on the whole, these are women's struggles with their own bodies.

When I suffered my miscarriages, I felt deeply betrayed by my body.  Biologically speaking, an adult female's body is meant largely to nurture its young.  Three times, my body proved that it was incapable of doing so.  Three times, the test was positive, and three ultrasounds later confirmed that our babies had died within the very cocoon that was meant to sustain them.  

Pregnancy Loss Awareness ribbon
 image from camolove.com

Although I have never been diagnosed with breast cancer, my friends who have say it's rather a whirlwind experience.  One day, things are fine, and the next, you think there might be a lump.  I can't imagine the excruciating frustration and fear that comes with waiting for test results.  Trying to decide how to tell loved ones.  Preparing for surgery, radiation, more tests.  Losing hair.  Losing weight.  Losing strength.  Losing hope.

Ah, hope.  Emily Dickinson called it "that thing with feathers" that keeps us going through stormy seas, that endlessly supplies is with optimism and faith for our future.  It's the one thing that cannot be taken from us, regardless of health, finances, religion, relationships.  It seems sometimes like a fickle thing that threatens for leave us whenever the doctor brings bad news, or the bills keep piling up on the kitchen table.  But real hope can not be lost, only thrown away.  Faith and hope, in Christ, are interlocked.  You cannot separate them, for they feed each other.  An archaic use of the term "hope" is "to place trust in".  Biblically, the term did not mean "a desire for something to come to pass" but instead was almost synonymous with "belief".


So this I say to the victims out there.  You women whose bodies seem to betray you.  Hold fast to hope.  It cannot leave you, though diagnosis or doubt may seem to shoo it away.  You cannot lose it, for it finds its way in in the dark with the light of God's love.  

Only you can let go of it.  


Don't.

A Leaf on the Wind?

Over the past several weeks, I've been struggling with my role as a stay-at-home mom, a wife, a daughter, and a friend.  As an introvert, even though I love my family and friends, I truly value my alone time.  I'm learning that's not really a great thing for a new mom.  Women in this position need the company of other adults - and it doesn't even always have to be other mommies.  

I've been re-evaluating my relationship with God and the church.  Instead of feeling closer to God these past few months, I've felt further away from Him.  I'm back at church but still dealing with a spiritual "blackout" that I want to push through.

I've been wondering why I haven't been writing - even when I have time.  I identify myself as a writer.  I love to write.  I have lots of ideas.  I just don't sit down and do it.

I think a lot about how to be a better mother to my son.  What kind of person do I want to encourage him to be?  Is it possible to walk way from the Mommy Wars and still be involved in the motherhood community?  Can I refuse to take sides without going AWOL?  Can I put aside my own insecurities and raise my baby boy to be a gentleman who respects women and his elders?  Who looks past appearances and treats others with love?

Image from www.etsy.com.

With all these thoughts swirling in my head like the leaves that will soon fly through the autumn air, I'm taking on a bit of a new identity.  A new symbol.  A new inspiration.

The feather.

Feathers are the means by which birds can fly.  Not the only way, of course; bone structure and anatomy play a role.  But a featherless bird cannot fly.  Birds that can fly doesn't think about flying.  It's part of their genetic make-up.  They just do it.

I need to stop thinking about being able to do something - and just do things.  I've spent too much time trying to talk myself out of things that seem too hard for me.

Feathers also represent writing and fighting.  Words and warfare  Feathers, once altered, can be used as quill pens to spill a soul on paper, or the means to guide arrows to the hearts of their targets.  I am a writer and a fighter.  My husband once told me he married me because I'm strong.  I don't always feel strong, but frequently, fighting just to get through a bad day or a period of difficulty is enough to qualify us as strong.  We don't have to be heroes.  We don't have to be faultless.  


Feathers also represent God.  As believers, we frequently turn to Psalm 91 as a prayer of protection and safety. Verse 4 reads: "He will cover you with his feathers.  He will shelter you with his wings.  His faithful promises are your armor and protection."  In my mind, I see the image of a worn and weary refugee, huddled beneath a pair of majestic, shining wings.  It's an image of rest and peace.  Those bright feathers promise hope.

So, instead of a leaf on the wind, I'll be a feather.  Ready to fly, or be honed into a tool for writing or fighting.  Flexible, faithful, true.  

Surprises

As I continue to adjust to my role as a mom, I have to admit, there were a few surprises that no one prepared me for - even the wisest and most experienced mamas I know.  Some turned out to be pleasant and others, well...you'll see.

1. My skin grew up.  In a good way.  I suffered for a very long time with acne.  I mean - we're talking over twenty years of my life, trying Noxema and Clearasil and Pro-Activ and three different medications from the dermatologist and countless other treatments, and virtually nothing worked long-term.  The closest I came was with the oil-cleansing method, but even that wasn't fool-proof.  My skin was pretty clear during my pregnancy, which I knew isn't usually the case.  So I buckled down and prepared for the worst when the hormones shifted after the baby came.  Nothing changed.  I am insanely grateful, and now leave the house without make-up more frequently.  Of course, people still seem to think I'm "sick" or "tired" without it, but that's life.

2. Never change a diaper immediately after a poop.  This one probably is SUCH a no-brainer to most moms that they don't even think of it as useful advice.  I figured it out on my own, and we won't get into any details, but I have a 60-second rule now with changing a diaper full of number two.

3. Formula is freeing.  This one doesn't apply to everyone, but it did for me.  After several weeks of attempted nursing, and lots of emotional trauma, we finally elected to exclusively formula-feed our little guy.  In spite of the heated mommy wars surrounding this topic, we've found that it works best for our family.  In my case, nursing was such a painful and frustrating experience that I grew to dread it.  Heaven forbid I should be in public when the baby got hungry.  I felt forced to make a hasty retreat home, red-faced and shameful.  I didn't want to feed in public because it made me uncomfortable - not to mention, after seven weeks, baby still couldn't get the swing of things.  For us, formula has allowed the rest of the family to participate more in caring for the baby, as well as given us more mobility.  

4. It's okay NOT to worry.  Wanting a (cheap) date night, my husband and I planned to see Guardians of the Galaxy at a local cinema's $5 night right up the road from my parents' house.  We left the baby and a bag full of supplies with them and I am not joking when I say that not an ounce of worry entered my mind.  I knew my parents were going to shower him with love, and my step-mom's extensive experience with children and babies certainly was a comfort, too.  I felt guilty only because I thought I was supposed to wail and cry and mourn about my first time away from my newborn.  Nope.  See #3 above.

5.  Babies are noisy.  I'm not talking about the crying.  I mean, I had no idea that this dude was going to grunt like a billy goat and sigh and sniffle and growl and shriek and hiss.  The first few times these sounds erupted forth from my tiny infant, I just stood there with my head cocked to the side, assuming that one of the cats had snuck into the room and was making terrifying bleating noises.  But no - cats don't typically do that, either.  On the plus side: he's cooing now and it is the best sound in the whole world since the beginning of time.

6. Nothing can prepare you for the NICU experience.  Especially if you've gotten this far after dealing with infertility or pregnancy loss, you might think you're invincible.  The worst has already happened and no matter what, things will be okay once the baby is delivered.  Not true.  Even though our little boy was only in for nine days, and received wonderful care, those days were some of the hardest and most miserable we've ever experienced.  Not only was I in emotional and physical pain from an emergency c-section, but every time we visited the baby, the updates changed - not always for the better.  My heart will always go out to parents whose babies are in the NICU, no matter what the circumstance.

7. The first time someone questions a decision you've made, your heart will break.  And your world will dim for a moment, and you'll panic and you'll stumble and you'll wonder if you're a terrible parent and you'll re-evaluate every single plan of action you'd considered.  But then, chances are, you'll realize that you're doing the best you can in your situation, for your family.  And you'll learn to handle people sneering because you're not breastfeeding...or sneering because you are breastfeeding.  And, when your baby smiles at you, the haughty look you got from that random old lady at Sheetz after a misguided and awkward conversation about homeschooling...well, that doesn't matter at all.  Not.  At.  All.

Any other first-time moms get some unexpected surprises - pleasant or otherwise? - when baby was born?