They tell you what to expect when the baby arrives: sleepless nights, endless feeding, poonamis and vomit puddles in your bra. They tell you to expect the sandpaper nipples, some vag discomfort and just general shitness in the hair and face department.
What they don’t tell you is to expect a rapid deterioration of your sanity. They don’t warn you about the basket-case sliding scale on which you’ll be rated for the rest of your life (the sliding scale ranges from Fairly Normal to Britney Spears).
You should expect to slowly inch your way back to a vague semblance of normal behaviour, but you’ll need to get comfortable with the fact that some parts of your brain will never return. Your frontal lobe has been branded with a white-hot MUM stamp….
Welcome to parenthood!