Life
For the most part, I can confidently say that my partner and I are on the same page. While we come from very different backgrounds and families, we share the same beliefs (usually) and the same parenting ideals (always) and have found a way to raise our son as a team, instead of two people who are constantly clashing. I knew we would do well as parents when I met him, but the arguments I had with my partner when I was pregnant proved, to me, that we would make great parents. After all, nothing says, "We're going to rock this parenting thing," like disagreeing about a recent Google search, right?
I had a very difficult pregnancy, so my partner and I didn't have as many chances to focus on the "little things" and have hormone-fueled fights as (I'm assuming) other couples do when their respective pregnancies go "according to plan." Still, we found ways to bicker and argue and disagree because, duh, we're a couple. Those arguments weren't necessarily all-out arguments, or even what I would consider a "fight," but more like manifestations of our anxiety and excitement. We couldn't wait to meet our son, but we were also terrified to meet our son. We wanted to be parents so badly, but we were afraid that we would fail at being the parents we already knew our son deserved. Parenthood, man. I'm telling you, it's just one long clusterf*ck of juxtaposing emotions that are nothing if not exhausting.
Thankfully, those arguments — while sometimes annoying and usually unnecessary — were subtle reminders that were going to be wonderful parents. If you're worried enough to dispute certain scenarios with your partner, and you want to make everything "perfect" to the point that you disagree on what "perfect" is, you're on the right track. So, if you are currently expecting and you find yourself arguing with your partner about the following things, just know that your future baby is one lucky kid. They're going to have amazing parents.
We Argued About Baby Proofing The Apartment
We didn't argue about whether or not we should baby proof the apartment, because duh. Instead, we had a few choice "conversations" about how much baby proofing was necessary and/or would prove to our newborn that we loved him and cared about his safety.
Would my 2-day-old baby notice that I had covered all of the outlets already, or tied small pillows to the corners of the coffee table? Nope. However, I wanted him to feel safe and in a very loving environment, so I went crazy when I really didn't need to. My partner — the voice of reason — knew that this was an unnecessary use of my very limited energy. So, we "debated" the legitimacy of my baby proofing desires. At least I knew that, in the middle of those arguments, that we loved our son so much we were going to legitimately disagree on how best to make sure he never, ever, got hurt.
We Argued About Sleep Arrangements
We both knew we wanted to co-sleep, so that wasn't a source of contention. Instead, we didn't know who was going to be spending the majority of their time laying in bed with our little spud.
Now, I was breastfeeding so clearly it made more sense for me to share the bed with the baby when he did, eventually, arrive. My partner, however, had a solid argument to dispute this claim. He evoked the postpartum "you need to sleep so you can recover," argument, which is damn-near fool-proof if you ask me. (Of course, I think he just wanted to be close to his infant son, but whatever.)
In those moments of logistical bickering, I realized that we loved our son so much we were legit arguing about who was going to be losing the most sleep in order to be next to him. #ParentingWin
We Argued About Baby Names
Well, duh.
These arguments never escalated, mind you, but we did have a difficult time naming our future spawn. Of course, we both wanted to be part of the process and we wanted to carry on legacies from our respective families and blah blah blah. When I think about those conversations now, I usually just laugh at how ridiculous we were being. We were infatuated with our son to the point that we wanted to get his name "just right," (like every parent ever) when, in the end, it's almost impossible to pick the "perfect name" for someone you haven't met yet.
We Argued About Feeding Arrangements
To be clear, we didn't argue about breastfeeding vs. bottle feeding. My partner knew that I wanted and was determined to breastfeed, and he supported that decision (and my efforts) like the grown-ass man he is.
However, we did argue about who was going to get up at night to get bottles of pumped breast milk if it was necessary; who was going to be the one to introduce semi-solid foods; who was going to take over the majority of the feedings when breastfeeding was over, and who was going to be the designated "run-to-the-store-to-get-whatever" if we ran out of something we needed to feed our little one.
It all seems to obvious, of course, but I knew that even when breastfeeding was over I wouldn't want to give up feeding entirely. Nope. False. Breastfeeding would be my thing and I was drunk with power; I wanted all the feeding things. I planned on holding and cuddling and feeding my kid every single chance I got.
(Of course, once the kid showed up this quickly changed and I was more than OK with my partner taking over any and all feedings — especially night feedings — when possible. Ah, parenthood. We were so naive, once.)
We Argued About The Internet
When I was pregnant, you couldn't keep me off Google. The problem, of course, is that when you're pregnant you should definitely stay off Google. Like, always. Never use the damn thing, because the moment you search some ailment befalling you, you'll read some long-winded medical description that will convince you you're dying, panic will ensue and your OB-GYN or midwife will end up hating you.
So, my partner tried to keep me off the internet as often as possible, which ended up starting a war of our respective wills. He won, usually, but only because I was so damn tired I didn't have the energy to argue as frequently as he did. After all, I was the one growing another human being, thank you very much.
We Argued About Cars And Driving And Traffic
Look, I don't mean to start a panic — because vehicles are a normal mode of transportation so it's not like they're uncommon death traps only daredevils use to get from point A to point B — but vehicles are death traps daredevils use to get from point A to point B, OK? I used to love driving, and then I wound up pregnant and suddenly I was terrified of getting into any and all cars. Accidents happen and people don't know how to drive and ugh, it's so scary.
The problem was, of course, that driving was a necessity if I wanted to make it to the numerous and necessary OB-GYN appointments I had to attend. So, my partner and I spent a good amount of time arguing about vehicles and their safety and people's loose grasp on the term "merge" and how he was driving too fast or driving too slow or simply driving at all.
Looking back, I can now say that those arguments were clearly preparing us for that first ride home from the hospital, our son in his infant carseat. I didn't think driving could get any scarier but I was wrong. Oh, yes. I was so wrong.
We Argued About The Number Of Toys Our Kid Should Have
I wanted to buy all of the things, my partner knew we really didn't need to buy hardly any of the things. I mean, our son was going to sleep and poop and eat and do it all over again, every single day, for some time. There was no need to by toddler-appropriate toys right away "just so we can say we're prepared."
We both wanted to give our son everything he needed and could have possibly wanted, but only one of us (at the time) had a slightly better grasp on what his needs and wants would be. In the end, our kid didn't need toys. All he needed was two parents who loved him to the point that they would spend time arguing about his toys. #MissionAccomplished
We Argued About Our Apartment's Decore
Nesting is real and I experienced it — to a certain degree — in the final weeks of my pregnancy. Suddenly, my entire apartment just looked "wrong." I hated everything about it, from the color of our couches to where our couches were positioned, and wanted to redecorate the entire space so my son would know that I loved him by simply looking at our Feng Shui decor. I know, I know, but I was pregnant and hormonal, OK?
So, my partner tried to remind me that our infant son literally wouldn't notice or care if our couch was moved three inches to the left or if the entire color scheme of our living room had changed. I disagreed, so arguments ensued. However, even then, I knew that I was being somewhat ridiculous and what I was really worried about was my son loving me as much as I would (and already did) love him. I knew that he could devastate me in a second, because I was going to be open and vulnerable and at the mercy of my son's happiness and health, and that was terrifying. He would have my heart, and if moving a damn coffee table to the other side of a room was going to protect that heart even slightly, I was about it.
We Argued About Which Of Our Favorite Sport Team Our Kid Should Like, Too
I say "argument" nicely because, of course, there's no contest.
I was the one who grew our kid inside my body. I was the one who pushed said kid outside of my body. He's clearly going to grow up to be a Seattle Seahawks fan and there's no ifs, ands, or buts about it. The end.
